


An Impetuous God

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Angst, Child Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Recovery, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:50:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4887973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John's dad begins sexually abusing Dave behind closed doors under the guise of "love", there is little Dave can do to protect himself. Caught between the threats and actions of John's dad and his abusive older brother, Dave has nowhere to turn and nowhere he feels safe. </p><p>That is, of course, until he meets the son of a violent gang leader who also feels a bit worse for wear himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into the Abyss

**Author's Note:**

> a note b4 you read: this is really heavy on triggers  
> i dont enjoy making dave suffer btw & you'll notice its based pretty heavily on the manga A Cruel Gods Reign (which is rlly fucking good except for the second half of it in my opinion w/ all the incest and the character Ian is a bag of shit) so yeah.  
> this'll be a ride, thats for sure. yikes.
> 
> ANOTHER NOTE!!!: i honestly dont think that dad is terrible, but in this, ill be playing w the idea that not all people are what they appear to be, and that abusers can often have two faces.  
> so yeah. this is AU- no sburb session, trolls are human and shit i guess lmao
> 
> ALSO LAST NOTE!: this is NOT a story about love and romance fixing your mental illnesses and problems. this is a fic about trauma and how it can literally WRECK your relationships with everyone around you. so year. if youre looking for a story thats like "Character A meets Char B and is cured of sadness!" srry this is not the ........ thing 4 you

[XXXX](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4o0WYiK52Dg&index=2&list=PL4YHdqa7eRSg8IqAt7YHnNdpajEZo84ij)

John's house is pretty much the only place you can chill at nowadays. Your own apartment is a hellish puppet-zone and quite frankly, school is just another sort of hell entirely. Although you're sure you could go to Rose's house if you wanted to to hide out, you've heard enough about her mother to discern that that is a Very Bad Idea and should not be entertained whatsoever. Nope, no siree, you deal with enough Abusive Shit(TM) to dissuade you from it for the next 5000 years or so. (Even though you love Rose, you don't think you trust yourself in her house either, especially with all of the alcohol. She agrees.)

But like you were saying, John's house is practically the only place you can chillax and feel safe at. And his dad is pretty chill too, a far cry from your Bro, who pretty much exists solely to make you feel like shit. It's taken you a long time to go from idolizing him to realizing he's really just a frothing pile of steaming dog crap, but now that you have, you find his general presence to be grating and like to be as far away from him as possible.

So, you're at John's house like usual. It's Saturday morning, and John has just passed the fuck out after an all-night movie sesh. You, being too restless after seeing Matthew Mcconaughey's grubby face for two hours, decide to sneak out into the kitchen to get yourself some water; you figure that since it's around 5 in the morning, John's dad shouldn't be up for another hour or so, and you'll be solid: no awkward conversations are foreseeable in your future; you're golden. 

But you never think, not even for a second, that you might be wrong.

In your boxers and a big ratty t-shirt you stole from your Bro, you tiptoe into the kitchen with ease, stepping around the creaky floorboards without making a sound. You reach up to the top cupboard for a glass when you hear the footsteps behind you, the low thud of shoes tapping against the hardwood.

Before you realize what you're doing (it's a conditioned response after years of living with Bro and expecting the unexpected: a reflex) you turn on your heel fast enough to accidentally fling the glass cup out of your hand. It hits the wall adjacent to you and shatters, and your blood goes cold. "Oh crap, I'm so sorry, I'll- I mean, I'll clean that up right now and pay you for a replacement. Holy shi- holy crap I'm really sorry, you just startled me."

You look up from the pile of glass and see John's dad loitering in the doorway several feet away from you.

Egbert doesn't say anything at first, which only adds to the growing anxiety clawing at your stomach. Instead, he looks through the doorway behind him connected to the living-room, as if checking for noises, before he glances at you again. you think you see something in his eyes-- like a fire sparking behind his irises-- but the look vanishes before you can discern it. Oh god. What if he's mad at you? What if he never lets you come back to his house again? You freeze up a bit and gear up to apologize (you don't know what you'll do without having this safe space, honestly. You can't lose it) but Egbert takes a soft step forward and smiles at you.

"It's alright, Dave. It was an accident, and I startled you. But we better keep it down, we wouldn't want to wake up John, would we?"

"Oh, uh. Yeah, sorry."

John's Dad walks past the shattered glass, but his heel catches on a large chunk of it and it shatters under his foot with a few popping cracks. "But why on Earth are you awake this early?" He asks, and you have the impulse to ask the same thing, though you restrain yourself. He's an adult, he probably has some weird adulty things to do that don't concern you.

"Um, I couldn't sleep," you say, which is pretty much true for the most part. "So I came out to get some water. Are you, uh..." Your eyes flit over to the broken glass. You haven't moved from the spot you were in since you flung the cup, so you shift on your feet out of discomfort more than anything. "Are you sure you don't want me to grab the dustpan or something and sweep that up, Mr. Egbert?"

"Please, call me James," he says easily, stepping towards you. You restate your question once more.

He shakes his head at you, waving his hand in the air as if to dismiss the idea from existence all together. "No, no. That won't be necessary, I'll do it later. Actually, there's something I wanted to talk to you about, Dave."

"Me?" 

Egbert flashes you a quick smile, but something about it is... Off. Your stomach starts to twist and you berate yourself for feeling so suspicious of this guy, he's shown you nothing but kindness since you've met him, so why are you so nervous all of a sudden? Oh yeah, because you're a dumb fucking asshole with no common decency, that's why.

"Yes. Don't worry, no need to look so nervous." he laughs, and you suddenly feel very foolish for acting so weary. You relax your shoulders and will yourself to chill the fuck out. "I just wanted to talk about... us."

"Us?" You feel like a parrot suddenly, squawking back everything he's saying like a five year old with limited vocabulary. Fuck. Stop shaking stop shaking. Why the hell are you so nervous it's not--

Egbert is right in front of you before you can say anything more, his hands going up to touch your face.

You nearly shoot through the ceiling and jolt backwards; his finger snaps up on your shades, knocking them off your face and sending them skittering across the floor and into the pile of glass. What the fuck. What the fuck. "What the _fuck_?"

Egbert doesn't chastise you for your language, and while your mind is screaming at you to shove him and run, he smiles down at you. In this moment, you truly feel tiny in comparison. "No need to act so surprised, Dave."

You don't know what to say, you don't know what you should even say in the first place. You try to back up, but your spine smacks into the granite counter-top and your breath stutters on the way out. John's dad drags his thumb down your cheek, but you're clammy enough so that his rough finger catches on your skin. When he moves it down your face, it feels like he's trying to press bruises into your skin deliberately. 

Your mind is repeating a mantra of oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god what is happening what is happening oh god oh god oh g o d that when you finally snap back into reality, he's started speaking again.

"I've noticed how you look at me." Egbert grins in a way that seems almost placating, but it's the most wicked thing you've ever witnessed. "You want this just as badly as I do. You've wanted me since the first time we met, haven't you? And don't try to be coy, I can see right through you." 

He rubs your sides with feather-light touches, his calloused fingers slowly caressing the outside of your shirt. To you, however, it feels like he's directly touching your skin, and it makes your very knees weak. You want to scream. You want to get away. You want to disappear and leave the anger bubbling in your chest to wither and die. 

"You're fucking sick, I don't want this! Get off of me." You squirm in his grip and thrash, but he holds you still. "Let me go!"

"Shh, you don't want John to come out and see, do you? What do you think he'd do if he saw you trying to seduce his father?"

That's not what's happening that's not what's happening, you didn't mean to start this, did you? Of course not, you don't want this. But then your mind starts to wander. What _would_ John say if he saw you like this? With his dad on you and a hard on straining against his boxers. All you can think about is how much John loves his dad and how much this would crush him.

It hurts too much to think, let alone form coherent thoughts. You couldn't possibly have done the things he's said, right? 

"I'm not trying to seduce you, you fucking pervert. G-get your hands offa-"

Egbert slaps you suddenly, and the breath in your throat catches as your words are cut off. Your face tingles when he kisses your cheek right where his palm cracked against your skin. "Like I said, Dave. Stop trying to be coy, we both know you've been wanting this for a long, long while."

"I haven't, you piece of shit. You're demented, get the- get the hell offa me!" 

"He would hate you if he found out..." Egbert puts his mouth on your neck and inhales deeply. The feeling of his nose nuzzling into your flesh makes goosebumps rise on your arms. "John loves me. You know that, of course you do. You're such a smart boy... Nothing like the dumb child you pretend to be. So you know better than that, don't you? You know how much finding out would ruin him. Would you want to do that to your best friend?"

"W-why are to doing this?" You plead as his tongue creates wet paths across your dark skin. "D-don't you love John? Why would you d-do this if you know it would hurt him if he found out?" Your body is shaking from head to toe, it feels like your heart is trying to hammer it's way out of your chest, and above all, your mind feels like its turning to dust.

"Oh, Dave. I love John but..." Egbert's hand slips into the side of your boxers and your whole body goes rigid with a feeling of dread you can't even begin to describe. "I love you even more. In a way a father could never love his son, in a way that only _lovers_ could love one another."

"If you loved me you'd let me go right now," you say, hoping to plead your way out of this. Oh god oh god please. "If you loved me you w-wouldn't try to hurt me. Right, J-James?" His name on your lips feels putrid, your body begins to shudder again, the ache of fear settling deep in your chest and spreading to your fingers and toes like cold water running through your veins.

"That's where you're wrong again," He says, rubbing the outside of your thigh idly with his hand. "Love can take many forms. And not all are pleasant. But I assure you, I love you more than you could ever imagine, and this is just my way of showing it. You love me too, don't you, Dave?" 

You make a high pitched and pathetic whining sound and squirm again, but he's too strong for you to escape. You refuse to answer his question, instead seeing it as rhetorical. Yet, you assure yourself that even if you had answered, there would be no way it would have been a yes. You never could, not even if he paid you to love him.

"Please. If you let me go I won't say anything." Oh god oh god oh god oh god. How can you bargain with a man like this? How can you hope to escape a touch this pervasive? 

Egbert laughs. "Who would you even tell? No one would believe someone like you: a punk. A no-good bastard of a child with a lousy deadbeat for a father. Me? I'm an adult. I'm professional. Everyone in this neighborhood loves me. Who's side do _you_ think they'd pick?"

You don't correct him when he calls bro your father. You're too busy running it through your head. Fuck, he's probably right. Fuck fuck fuck. Who would believe you over him? Everybody loves John's dad. Everybody loves him. But you're just-- you're just a ratty poor kid. How could they ever believe you for a second?

Egbert continues, his hand creeping slowly as he speaks. "How about I cut you a deal?"

Your breath stills. 

"Just this one time. And no one has to know. I'll leave you alone, and this'll be a thing of the past. Deal?"

No one has to know. No one has to know. Your give one last futile tug against his grip but once again, you're held firm. This situation is grim. There is nothing you can do. You know if you try to tell, no one will believe you, and if you tell John, he'll hate you forever for trying to blame his dad for something so terrible, something you'd never think he'd do until now. You'd never imagine that his dad could be capable of this. But yet, the you from the past who thought that feels too far away to even think of. That Dave was pure, untouched. You're being sullied; even thinking of the past you has you shuttering harder than before. It is blasphemy. Sacrilege. Desecration of an image better than your present self.

"Have you made your choice?" He asks, his hot breath right against your ear.

You shutter. Exhale. Nod. This is all the confirmation he needs.

"God, I love you," he claims as he grabs your face harshly and forces you to look at him. Egbert's eyes are scorching black holes. His voice is low and almost mocking as he says: " _This_ is what love looks like." as if you've never known the word "love" before now and he smashes his face to yours. 

Resistance drains from you and you let him do what he wants with your mouth while you stand, complacent, with your heart beating in your ears. He must be right. You must want it. You're not fighting back or screaming, you're not hitting him or running. So you must want this. You m u s t--

"I've been waiting so long," he says, licking down your throat. "You're so perfect, so soft, so young--"

You sit there. You sit there and let him do things to you, like some sort of statue. Just this one time, he said. Just this one time. You can deal with it; for John, this is for John. This is for your friendship. 

No one has to know.

No one

Has

To know.

"Take off your shirt," he orders, and you do it. You do it just because he says to and your own compliance makes you want to heave.

"Your skin is so smooth. So untouched, so naïve and responsive." Your stomach is heaving, your chest beating rapidly. "Like an unknown land I can lay claim to."

You think to yourself if that your body is his to claim, you'd be fine with chopping off all of your limbs and setting them on fire. You don't want to have anything on your body _to_ claim. You want nothing to be taken. You want nothing left to even own, if it means Egbert will stop touching you, you'd rip every hair off your body one by one. 

He moves you to the table and shoves you by the nape of the neck onto the smooth polished surface. With his feet, he forces your legs apart and leans down so he can hiss into your ear, "Tell me what you want."

You want him to go away you want him to leave you want him to stop touching you like something precious in the same touch he's defiling you with. You want your body to stop responding you want to kill him you want to jab his eyes out and watch him bleed to death. You want you want you want.

A tear slips out from the corner of your eye and plunks onto the tabletop your cheek is plastered to. In a humiliating breath, you say you want him to fuck you.

He straightens his back and you hear the clink of his belt being undone. 

"Good boy."

\-------

When you come to, the first thing you notice is the blood. Blood on the table, blood smeared into your mouth, blood crusted around your nose. It feels like it's everywhere, and everything that happened smacks back into you like a freight train; your body starts to shake intensely with the onslaught of memories that jam themselves back into place in your brain. 

When you lift your head and try to pull your body up, you notice that the clock on the oven says its 5:59. It hasn't even been an hour since it started, but it feels like it's been years. It feels like 5 am is worlds away, and suddenly, you feel as if time doesn't even exist anymore, or at least not here. 

You think Jame--- Egbert. You think Egbert notices your shift and his voice shatters the sound of silence and the sound of your own blood thumping in your ears.

"I'll never touch you again if you don't want me to," he's sitting across from you at the table, and you feebly lean down to pull your boxers back up over your ass-- your ass, your ass that was just--. Maybe if your body didn't tempt him like this none of that would have happened. 

Your hands-- the hands that did nothing to resist, even when they could've-- curl up into weak fists. You're weak. A weak fucking pansy that couldn't even stop himself from being raped by his best friend's dad.

"I'm sorry." He says when you don't respond. "I really am. I didn't mean to hurt you."

No response from you. 

"Here, I have your glasses for you." He slides them over the tabletop in your direction. 

"Do you forgive me?" Your head snaps up and you look at him, his face pleading and scared, and you feel livid and sad and _empty_ in a way you never felt was possible. 

When you say nothing, his eyes get a touch more dangerous. "Do you forgive me?" Now, it sounds like a threat.

So, with your heart beating in your throat, you swallow and nod. "I-I forgive you." 

He smiles again, in the way that he used to before this all happened, in the way he used to smile at you when he opened the door to let you in to his home. Suddenly, you wonder if you simply misread his smile all this time. It's not kind or fatherly or protective; it's a smile that desires no more than to rip your flesh apart and grind your bones to dust. A smile that wants to eat you whole.

He's always wanted to fuck you. If only you were ugly, if only your body was ugly and blemished and despised. Maybe if you were disgusting, he'd never want to touch you in the first place. But this body, the one he took for himself, was desired. It makes you sick. Your own traitorous body makes you sick. 

He's still talking. You want to make him stop. You'll agree with anything he says if it means he'll stop and leave you so you can pull yourself together and pretend this never happened.

"Let's try and get along, you don't want John to find out about this, right?" 

You nod. Just say yes.

"This'll be our little secret."

You nod. Give in. 

"I love you."

You nod with nothing to add. Make it hurt less.

"It won't happen again, I promise."

You nod.

You should have known he was lying.


	2. Morning. Mourning.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well,,,, here we are again folks. the gays meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter.... was so hard for me to write because??/ what the fuck is dialogue lol  
> but it had to be done :///////////

You only manage to change your clothes and grab your phone changer and shades before you're rushing out of the Egbert household with your entire body feeling heavy and numbly weighted. John's dad (James, your mind supplies, The guy you just let fuck you like some cheap hooker he picked up on the side of the freeway) offers to make you breakfast with a sad gleam in his eye, but you decline politely, too afraid to lash out, and say that you have to be going home.

"Oh, John'll be disappointed when he wakes up to see you gone," he says, "but I'll tell him. Have a nice day, Dave."

Fuck him. Fuck John. Fuck you for being such a fucking idiot.

It's still early morning and the birds are just starting to sing and the crisp autumn air burns your nose. You trudge with a limping gait through damp grass and forsake your dignity, letting tears you didn't even know were coming to silently fall. You're such an idiot.  
You're such a fucking idiot.

You bring your sleeve up and scrub at your face, willing your crying to stop; but when it doesn't, you decide that it wouldn't be smart to go back to your apartment like this so Bro can make fun of you too. You need to go somewhere to chill and forget this ever happened. Banish it to the back of your mind forever. Maybe if you pretend it didn't happen, the rest of your body will stop hurting also. 

Egbert said it would only be that time, so now you're going to forget about it. You're fine. You're fine you're fine, even if you feel nauseous and kind of want to hurl yourself off of a building. It's chill. You're chill. It was only that one time. He said so.

You end up walking to the park a few miles away from your apartment and decide that this'll be as good of a place as you could possibly find and, somewhat resignedly, sit on one of the swings, hunch your shoulders, and scrub your face once more. You're glad, at the very least, that it's too early for people to be around, so you're left to gather yourself in peace. 

You can't be weak like this-- not now. You need to get your shit together. Right now, asshole.

(oh god you can still feel the phantom sensation of him--) 

No. Not thinking about it. Nope. You're cool. You're fine. You're--

Still crying. Awesome. Not giant, heaving sobs, you know better than that, but even these near-silent keens you're making are fucking embarrassing. You're not five anymore, dumbass. (But everything hurts. Nothing feels normal. Everything is in pieces.)

After what feels like the longest period of time you've ever cried in your entire life, someone taps your shoulder from behind. A gasp strangles itself in your throat, gets caught, and manifests into a few short startled breaths before you can properly look at the person who touched you. You beret yourself briefly for even thinking it was James in the spit second your mind escaped you again (fuck. you mean Egbert) and look up past the sunlight glaring in your eyes. 

(You're not wearing your glasses either. Nice going. You're really a mess today, huh, letting some stranger fucking see your eyes like--)

"Hey um, dude, are you... okay?"

You sniff and look up at the stranger; he's a pretty average height, with this wild mop of black hair that reminds you of John's and incredibly dark skin. His voice is pretty scraggly, like he'd just been screaming his throat raw right before he came up to you. 

Sniffing again, your dare to look down at your feet dangling under the swing seat and push and pull a bit until you're rocking in the air. "Yeah," you answer stiffly.

"No offense dude but you don't look ok-"

"Fuck off," you say, still crying, and you'd honestly be so okay with dying right now. Hopefully you get a freak heart attack or something, because you do NOT want to be having this sort of conversation right now after you just got--

The kid looks at you from top to bottom and you wilt under his gaze, uncomfortable. In the moment it takes him to survey you, you're already shoving your shades back onto your face with a clammy palm; the lenses get smudged in the process, but fuck it. You need something to protect yourself. You need something, anything, to make this feel not as weird as it does.

"Hey, hey, chill, I was just asking if you were alright," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "But um... I'm guessing the answer is no." 

You look down and swing a bit more, hoping that if you ignore him long enough he'll go away. Half expecting him to start making fun of you, you wait for him to either say something or leave.

You blink, startled, when he shoves his hand in front of your face. In his palm, he holds a bag of chips and a twinkie. After staring at them dumbly for what feels like minutes (but is probably only a few seconds), the kid shakes them in his hand. "Take 'em."

You do, not knowing what to say.

He sits himself beside you on the next swing and rocks a bit. "Today my friend woke me up at four in the morning to bug me about a computer program he's been working on. Isn't that fucking rude as hell? He could have waited a while, at least. Y'know, until the sun actually rose. I know he can get by on no sleep, but I need my hours to look this good."

You glance over at him, confused, but he keeps going without your prompting. "And THEN, I peel my body from my bed and venture downstairs to see that there's a person bleeding out on the living room carpet."

"No way."

"Yes way."

"Dude you're fucking lying," you say, busting open the bag of chips slowly and with slight trepidation, suddenly feeling hungry and a bit more capable of pushing what happened earlier from your mind.

"Whatever, believe me or not, that's your choice. But shut the fuck up and listen to my story." He swings a bit higher. "So I'm tired, see this guy bleeding out on my carpet, and I'm losing practically every shit in my body. So I go to see if he's alive or not when another guy comes out of my kitchen holding a bowl of pasta and a steak knife--" 

You let out a snort and rub the left over tears from your face. "Man oh my god, what the fuck. You are _so_ making this up."

"Am not." 

"Are too."

"Ugh, do you want to hear the rest or not, asshole? I come and give you my twinkies, tell you a story, and this is how you repay me?" He huffs. What a fucking liar.

"Did you call the cops?"

"Will you listen or not?"

Attempting a small smile, you crumple up the empty bag of chips and stuff it into your pocket.

He grins back, just as slightly, and launches into his story once more. 

You interrupt more than a few times, and he eventually just starts yelling at you as you laugh at him. It's light. It's calm and relaxed. It's just what you needed right now.

Eventually, your chest clenches when you realize you should probably leave. You tell him this quietly, and he nods sympathetically before getting up from his swing and waiting for you to stand too. 

"I'm Karkat," he says. Immediately, his cheeks become a bit flushed. "'nd don't fucking think about making fun of it either. I know it's not usual but--"

"No, I like it. It fits you." You stand up and face him, awkwardly shuffling your feet when the pain in your lower back starts to radiate again. You knew this wouldn't last. Fuck. "I mean it's definitely more interesting than my name. I mean, how many Daves do you know? Probably a few at least, it's nothing spectacular as far as names go. But yeah. That's me... Uh... Dave." You run your hand through your hair a few times nervously. Fuck, do you _always_ have to act like such a socially awkward prick? You feel like you made everything awkward or something with your word vomit. Good job.

Clearing your throat, you sway on your feet, not eager in the slightest to leave. "I... I need to go."

"See you around." He says.

You seriously doubt it.

\----

Once again feeling numb and unpleasantly hollow, you try to keep it all of your gushy feelings tucked inside of yourself. You know that if you cry at home, Bro'll just fuck with you more, probably call you a pussy or a faggot again. Nice. And if you try to cry in secret, he'll find out somehow regardless.

He always does.

So, you tell yourself that you have to shape the fuck up before you get home. You shouldn't have feelings like this. What's the big deal about-- about having sex one time anyway? It wasn't a big deal, and he _apologized_ anyway so really, why are you so hung up on-

Oh. You're at your apartment building. Haha. You were so lost in thought that you zoned out for the entire two mile walk.

That's funny. Hah. Silly you.

You scale the flights of stairs with an intense ache in your back. Your knees shake feebly and you very much feel like a small pathetic child, incapable of even getting up to your goddamn apartment on your own. Eventually you manage it and tug your keys out of your pockets with your trembling fingers, miss the lock five times, and only manage to shove it in on the sixth. 

By the time you swing the door open, you pull your face into the perfect picture of calm indifference and step into the apartment.

The lights are all off and your Bro is sitting on the couch, impassive and spread out while he plays his dumb videogames. The light of the television makes his body flash different colors, and he doesn't even acknowledge your existence as you enter the room (which you think is for the best).

You slump over the second you get into your room, the world around you morphing into grays and blacks as a headache forms in your temples and the aching becomes too much to handle. You think it might be a good idea to go clean yourself up in the bathroom before locking yourself in your bed under your covers for God knows how long, but when your sweater sleeve slips down and you catch sight of the bruises on your wrists, you think it might not be the best idea to see the damage and crawl into bed. Fuck it. You hear the soft voices of Tom Haverford and Donna Meagle telling you to "treat yo self" and succumb to the nagging of your exhausted body. 

Even if you feel wrong and bad and dirty, and even if you can still somehow feel Egbert's goddamn hands feeling you up like you're some fruit at the supermarket, you aren't moving until you can push it all away and tuck it under a rug forever. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you take it out, already knowing that you're not going to respond due to the utter tiredness eating away at your brain, but suppose you might as well.

Oh look at that. It's John. John. The son of the man who held you down and--

EB: hey uh, dave? where did you go, i woke up and you weren't here.

You don't have time for this spiraling right now. You've got a date with a nap, and hopefully immediate death if you're lucky enough to catch it during your sleep. Man, that would be sweet.

You tell yourself that you'll just respond later and chuck your phone onto the floor.

\-----

You stay in bed for two days and only bother to get up on Monday when Bro pours a bucket of cold water over you in your sleep.

You still haven't gotten over it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thnks for reading <3
> 
> sorry im so bad at updating, mental illness kicks my ass 24/7 like im a kickball @ an elementary school


	3. A Promise

You can't bring yourself to concentrate when you go back to school on Monday, even though you desperately want everything to go back to normal.

You wear long sleeves to hide the bruises and don't change during P.E. out of fear of someone seeing them in the locker room and avoid anyone and anything that might make you crack. Sadly, this includes John. You don't... Think you could handle seeing him right now. The guilt you feel from leaving him hanging all weekend eats away at you, and when you remember you still haven't opened his messages, you feel another surge of anxiety rise up in you. Tldr; you feel like avoiding people is best for you right now, especially while you feel this uncharacteristically fragile and weak. 

So, you suck up all of the misgivings you hold within yourself and try to play it cool until you can book it home. Hopefully, if you're lucky, Bro won't be home either, and you can be at peace for a few sacred hours. 

You're successful in avoiding everyone else up until calculus, where you know Terezi and John will be there to mad dog you. You used to be glad to share such a shitty class with your friends, but now it just feels like a hassle. You don't want to let any of the stuff inside you to leak out, you want to keep it tucked away so no one will ever suspect you're anything but Good Ol Normal Dave. 

"There's my favorite asshole," Terezi says as soon as you sit down. She appears out of nowhere, slings an arm around your shoulder, and puts a hand on your desk. You shudder, berating yourself directly after. What are you, a pussy? She's just touching you dumbass, no need to get so fucking nervous.

"Hey Tez," you say, knocking your head back to stare into her glasses. She grins at you in the toothy way she usually does and tousles your hair.

Terezi was a foreign exchange student from Spain a few years back before she eventually convinced her older sister and aunt to move to Washington. She used to not speak English much at all, and she's been partially blind for as long as you've known her. But she's a total badass and doesn't take anyone's shit, which you love her for. She stands back from you and pushes her hair from her face. "So, John's been blowing up my notifications whining about how you won't text him back. Something go down between you two or something?"

Fuck, you should of known she'd bring this up.

"Nah, I just kind of... Was knocked out for the most of the weekend with a fever. Lots of homework too, you know how it goes. AP students ride hard and die hard." You shrug matter-of-factly and the bell rings just as John rushes into the room. He looks at you but is ushered to his seat before he can come up to your desk, and for once you praise the school system for its timeliness. 

Terezi pats your shoulder, mutters something about junior year being "dick for everyone" and goes to sit down. 

\--

You still can't concentrate. Your calc teacher goes through her lesson and zooms through the homework review with the rest of the class, but you just feel stuck. Stuck in time and space and fuck knows where else; everything is balls and you don't want to be here. 

Eventually, your teacher announces a pop-test and passes out the papers, but you easily decide that you're not going to be doing it. You'd much rather stew in your own self loathing than stare at something you can't even comprehend. At one point you do honestly try, but the numbers and letters muddle themselves into an incomprehensible mess, so you just give up.

The teacher eventually has you all pass your papers forward, and she thumbs through them quickly while the class talks amongst themselves. "David?" She calls, and your head shoots up. "Why did you leave yours blank?"

You look at your hands, suddenly aware that everyone is staring, and murmer out a quick excuse. "I didn't know any of it."

"So you just didn't try?" She clicks her tongue and turns away from you, and your stomach sinks with embarrassment as her disappointed voice filters itself into your mind.

You hear Terezi in the back talking to John, and you hunch your shoulders. She jokingly says: "He probably couldn't concentrate because he was thinking about boobies!"

Haha. Aha. Ha. 

The bell rings. You stand up fast enough to make you dizzy and hightail it out of the room, hoping to get out before John sees you.

"Dave! Wait!"

Fuck.

You slow down a bit when you exit the hallway and hope that maybe he won't find you and that you'll just get lost among the bodies. However, your arm is seized from behind and your chest seizes with it. 

"Dude, what the fuck."

Ok. It's just John. It's just John. You swivel around on your heels to face him and an awkward laugh bubbles from your lips. "Oh, sorry man. Just didn't want to be late for my next class." 

"Why'd you leave my house over the weekend without telling me? So not cool. And not responding to my texts? Double not cool. Are you avoiding me or something, Dave?" John yanks you over to the side of the hallway and you feel the sudden urge to spill everything to him.

But you don't.

"No bro. Sorry, I was sick, didn't your dad tell you? I woke up with a mad headache and a fever so he drove me home. And sorry I didn't answer," you lick your lips. "I was kind of just layin' in bed all weekend delirious out of my mind."

John cracks a small smile at you. "Okay, I was just worried I did something wrong, is all. Just wanted to make sure we were still chill!"

"Well you have nothing to worry about in that case, dork. We're cool; you did nothin' wrong."

He tells you to feel better soon and you say you'll talk to him later in response. The both of you part down different hallways. You're kind of split, feeling both proud of keeping it to yourself and ashamed that you know you have to, but more than anything, you feel an overwhelming exhaustion come over you. School can't end soon enough.

\----

The bell rings at the end of the day with a finality that has you zooming to your apartment. Bro isn't home, thank god, so you go straight to your room, toss your bag into the corner, and crawl into bed. 

You close your eyes and drift off to sleep, deciding that being awake is too much work for you right now. 

\----

You wake up to rapid knocks on your door. Your eyes open blearily and swallow to get the after-nap taste from your mouth. The knocking doesn't slow down, and you assume its Bro, guessing that he must've forgotten his keys, so you drag your sorry ass out of bed and slip into the livingroom to let him in. 

It's kind of weird that he's home so early, especially since the sun's still out, but whatever. The knocking finally stops and you unlock the door. Open it.

Your heart skips a few beats, because it isn't Bro and you don't--

How'd he find out where you live.

Why'd he come here.

Oh _God_ why is James in your house.

He puts a hand on one of your shoulders and shoves your useless body back into the apartment, making room for him to enter. He closes the door behind him and locks it, and immediately, his mouth is all over you, his arms are trapping you, and he's whispering straight into your ear. You stand there, unresponsively stagnant, and shudder, wishing you could do more than give in to him. Wishing you could do more than nothing.

"You didn't tell John today, did you? No, you know better than that." One of his hands go down to cup your ass while the other plays with the hem of your sweater. His entire body smells like fancy cologne; the odor permeates your nostrils and sticks there like a vile poison. He promised he wouldn't. 

"Let go of me." You squeeze your eyes shut and try to pull back, but his hands tighten around you almost threateningly, and his breath becomes hot and fast against your ear. You're fucking stupid for thinking that saying "no" would even matter in the first place.

He promised.

"John had me come and deliver the things you had forgotten at my home this weekend. He's such a wonderful friend, don't you think?"

Suddenly, he pulls away all at once. his hands sliding off your body like snakes.

"But, I told you I wouldn't touch you anymore Dave. I'm sorry, I need to control myself around you more." He takes a step back and retrieves a bag you didn't realize he left by the door and tosses it at you. "It's hard, though, especially when you're so cute and flustered around me." 

Something in you snaps to life like a flame, unannounced and angry within you, and you curl your hands into weak fists. "Get out."

James looks at you in a way that makes your entire being nearly falter, but you feel the fire rise up in you again and raise your voice. "You said you promised, so get the fuck out. You gave me my shit, so leave."

"What, I don't get a 'thank you'?" James is grinning at you like you're a little kid; around him, you suppose that's appropriate, because that's how you feel under his shadow: small. Childish. 

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. The anger still burns within you, nearly as poisonous as James' cologne, and nothing escapes your parted lips, save for a few harsh breaths to calm your shaking body. Looking at him hurts something deep within your chest. You can only begin to compare the feeling to being stabbed repeatedly by a rusty knife. This man has fucked you and you hate him, you _hate_ him, and you will never thank him for anything, not until the day you die.

"Get out." you say again, livid beyond capable thought yet still shaking like a wimp. "Just get the hell out already."

James looks at you and, without saying another word, smiles at you again and unlocks the front door.

"Of course, of course." The door opens slowly and you pull down your sweater from where he was beginning to slide it up and rearrange your pants. "Sorry for being an inconvenience, Dave. See you soon."

The door shuts with a click behind him and a chill rolls down your spine. Soon? No fucking way. You bolt forward and nearly slam yourself into the door to lock it. You nearly trip over your own feet running to your room and slam your door shut behind you.

Soon your ass. As if you'd purposefully let yourself ever see him again. 

You bury your head under your pillow and angrily scratch up and down your arms in attempt to rid yourself of the crawling sensations tingling up and down your skin. Haha. Yeah right.

Like you'd ever let him touch you again.

If he does, you'll kill him. You'll fucking kill him.

\---

At midnight, you take a shower. Bro is in the livingroom and a laughtrack on the television plays like a running commentary on your life.

You stay in the shower for almost an hour and only get out when Bro threatens to beat your ass for using all of the water. 

You sneak out of the apartment at three in the morning when you fail to sleep for more than a few minutes without jolting back awake with your crawling skin to keep you company.

You don't know why you thought that kid you met, Karkat, would be there.

He isn't.

You walk home at six when the sun is beginning to rise and don't bother going to school. Instead, you lock yourself back into your room and ignore the messages you get from your friends wondering where you are.

Bro is gone, and you can't find it within yourself to care.

...

You really are a fucking idiot.


	4. The Reuniting of Asshole #1 and Asshole #2

The next week passes in a blur of school, sleep, repeat. A part of you is completely convinced that you merely ceased to exist after The Incident. It's so hard to function and move and do things and act like things are normal when they're _not_. It feels like there's a rock on your chest and fuck, you're so disgusting for letting this happen to you. The hefty weight of blame has placed itself squarely on your chest, and it's not budging. When you sleep, you're overcome with nightmares, but when you stay awake, your mind keeps running on autopilot and thoughts of self-hatred and fear flit through your mind without a second to breathe in between. You can't decide which is worse.

You go back to hanging with all of your friends at school and talk to them on Pesterchum when you aren't lost in your own flashbacks. You think that by going back to how things were, you must be trying to build up normalcy in your life to compensate for everything that isn't in place as it was before. You can sense that Rose suspects something is wrong, but since she can't pin it down and figure out what it is, she leaves you be for the most part. It feels like your entire body is tainted; you're nothing like your friends anymore. You aren't clean. You're not Good. You're bad. That's why this happened, that has to be it. There's no way life dealt you such a shitty hand without a reason.

 _"Your skin is so flushed, you must be really overcome with emotion,"_ James had said. But you couldn't have been, could you? It was just something you had to do to keep your friendship with John. You couldn't have enjoyed it, right? But then again, you let him do whatever he liked to you. You even said it with your own mouth. You told him to fuck you.

You brought this on yourself.

"Hey asshole, you gonna eat that?"

You jolt back into your body and notice that Sollux, a member of your friend group and a kid you sometimes play video games with online, is jabbing your side. He nods over to what you have in front of you, a single cheese stick you grabbed from home before you left for school this morning. You shake your head and nudge it over to him. He hisses out a "yes" and Rose sits next to you with a foodtray in hand.

"Has this day been treating you well?" She asks politely. You know her well enough to realize she's trying to pry you open and see if you crack. She's looking for anything she can use against you to make you confess. So she can figure out what's up with you. Lol, ain't gonna happen. Good thing Bro made it a point to teach you a thing or two about masking emotions.

"Yeah I mean, as well as a day at school _can_ treat me I guess." You fiddle with your hands under the table and shrug. "I mean, I'm glad it's Friday, at least." You're actually not enthusiastic about it at all. You're not enthusiastic about much at all nowadays. You're either at school ghosting through your life or home, getting harassed and beaten up by Bro. Or getting completely ignored by him. Which also happens a lot. Again, you're not sure what you prefer.

Rose starts to stab at her food with a fork without looking. Instead, her eyes gaze straight through your shades like they're not even there. With her, you suppose they might as well not be. "So I'm assuming you're also coming to John's little friendly get-together this weekend as well?"

"Wait, what?" You don't remember ever being told about this. You don't think anyone did, or maybe if someone mentioned it to you, you simply forgot. You've been forgetting a lot of shit lately too. 

Rose rolls her eyes at you, her voice a sarcastic drawl. "It's not as if John has been harping on and on about the movie selection he's picked out for the entire week." 

"Okay, jeez Lalonde. I just haven't been payin' attention too much to shit that's been happening lately, alright? No need to rub it in by being a sarcastic asshole." You surprise yourself as soon as you finish speaking. Wow, way to snap at her. Now she's just going to fuckin' pry more, dickface.

She lowers her voice so only you can hear. The rest of your friends are fucking around, so you doubt that them overhearing your conversation will be a problem. "I'm not trying to rub it in, I assure you. I wasn't aware you were having trouble concentrating. Are you alright?"

Fuck her, she was totally aware that you've been spacing lately. Rose knows everything that's going on, she always does. She's just trying to play dumb to humor you. Well fuck Rose. Fuck Rose and her grubby prying therapy tentacles. "Yes," you grind out. "But I would be doing ten times better if you stopped prying." Honestly, you'd feel a bit bad about being so mean to her if your heart wasn't setting off like a jack-hammer in your chest. The sooner she gets off your case, the better.

Her eyebrows twitch slightly and her voice remains passive and betrays no inner emotion. "I'm not prying. It was simply a question." Rose clears her throat when she notices your prolonged silence. "Fine. Anyway, as I mentioned before, John is having a get together on Saturday. You know, a movie night."

"And?"

She huffs. "And you haven't confirmed your attendance yet. I was just wondering if you planned on coming. It would mean a lot to John, after all. He thinks you're mad at him or something."

What? John? He thinks you're mad at him? Rose seems to catch on to your expression of confusion and sighs, setting her fork down. "You really are kind of clueless Dave," she mutters, half to herself. "You don't talk to him for days, avoid him at school, and make up excuses just so you can get away from him when you both talk. And you ask why he thinks you're mad at him. Did anything happen between you two?"

John is seated at the complete end of the table, far from you and Rose. You stare at him for a few seconds; he's laughing with Tavros and Roxy, probably about something completely nerdy. Your eyes linger on John's smile and your chest burns. You're probably upsetting him by being so despondent. All because of a little incident that was your fault in the first place. You swallow heavily and think more about how much of a dick you are, about how much you ruin by existing around these people, and about how much you've probably hurt John this past week. You're just going to have to suck up the discomfort you feel around James, then. That's all you really can do at this point, isn't it?

Your voice comes out hoarse. "Nothing happened. I'll be there for movie night."

Rose goes back to eating with a nod and asks no more about how you've been acting lately. You're more grateful than you can express.

\----

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectobiologist [EB] \--

TG: hey uh  
TG: you dont have to accept this ofc but like  
TG: im sorry for being such a turd and ignoring you and stuff  
TG: ive just been stressed over school and sick but um  
TG: im better now and ill be there tomorrow for movie night  
TG: so i guess sorry for being a dick and you can totally punch me in the face for ignoring you and being a total douche if you want  
EB: so, uh, you weren't mad at me?  
TG: no and again sorry for making it seem like that dude  
TG: im just an asshole  
EB: yeah you are haha  
EB: but thanks. no hurt feelings bro!  
TG: um so... what movies are on the agenda  
EB: oh, dude! i was thinking we kick it off by watching face/off. i know that movie is old and all, but oh man is it a classic.  
EB: and then one of sollux's friends from green sun high is coming over and apparently he's huge with romcoms so i thought we would watch the princess bride!  
EB: hmmm and then i also had mad max on the list, just because jake only said he would come if we had some more "action explode-y stuff".  
EB: so, what do you think? there are more, but those are going to be a surprise  
TG: well i have to commend you on finding a movie as abhorrent as face/off to start with  
TG: i thought you didnt like nic cage anymore  
EB: i can have fun too dave  
EB: nostalgia, nostalgia!  
TG: aight if you say so  
TG: but im chill with everything else  
TG: and sollux has more friends than us?? color me surprised  
TG: damn and hes from that private school for rich people?? jeez whered sol nab someone like that  
EB: i dunno man, sollux has a knack for pulling out the unexpected whenever you, urrr... least expect it

You hear a sudden crash from the living room as the door is slammed open. Bro's home. Fucking great.

TG: shit sorry john but i have to go  
TG: bros home and hes probably going to want to strife or something dumb like that  
EB: haha no problem. try not to get your ass beat too bad!  
TG: no promises  
TG: see you tomorrow  
TG: wait fuck what time should i come over  
EB: come at three if you can!  
TG: got it peace out john

You don't even have time to cease pestering him before you hear Bro's clumsy thundering down your hall. Wow, double great, he sounds drunk. And here you thought you'd have a Bro-free Friday where you could hate yourself in peace. Apparently not. _try not to get your ass beat too bad!_ If only he knew the half of it. 

You toss your phone onto your bed and exit your room with shaking knees and clammy palms. You're really, really sick of fighting with him. You're tired of this.

But Bro doesn't care about how _you_ feel, so in the end, it's not like your opinion matters. This is just something that you have to endure.

\-----

You take the bus to John's house the next day and stuff your hands deep in your sweatshirt pockets so no one can see you wringing them nervously as you wait, stop after stop. Your leg throbs where your Bro shoved you into the coffee-table. You know, without looking, that it's nastily bruised, and that you're going to have to try to cover up your obvious limp while your at John's. You find yourself preoccupied with your worrying thoughts of having to see James after everything that's happened, but you reason to yourself over and over again that you'll be fine. He promised not to touch you. He said he wouldn't. Plus, you don't think he'd have the chance to anyways. There'll be too many people at his house tonight, and you'll never allow yourself to be caught alone with him again. 

You call for a stop and walk a few blocks to John's house. It's as suburban and plain as it was the last time you were here, and for some reason, you find it surprising that the house can still look so innocent and calm when a kid was raped in there. When a monster like James resides there. You can't help but notice that James' car isn't in the driveway, and pray to yourself that he's away for the day just for the sake of ultimate convenience. Checking your phone, you're right on time as you climb up the steps to his front door and ring the bell. 

John answers with a wide toothy smile and steps aside to let you in. 

"Is your dad home?" You ask, feigning curiosity.

"Nope," he says, closing the door behind you. "He's at this dumb conference or something. He said he'll be back tomorrow, so we have the house to ourselves. Cool, huh?"

"Yeah," you mimic, not daring to even glimpse through the door to the kitchen as you pass it. You're afraid that if you do, everything from that morning will come rushing back to you. "Cool."

John talks right into your ear about who's coming and about the vast supply of junk food he bought. However, you both come to a stop when you reach the living-room and you notice that Sollux is sitting on the couch with someone, even though you can only see the backs of their heads. They're muttering to themselves, lost in conversation. John leans over to you and elbows your arm. You hold back the pained wince with a bit of a grimace as the bruises littering your skin sting in protest.

"Sollux's friend is an asshole too, so I'm sure you'll get along just fine!" He says, and you elbow him back harshly while he laughs and stumbles, alerting the people on the couch of your presence.

Sollux turns around and the other kid tenses, not bothering to look over at you two. "Hey," Sollux says. "So I'm aware you probably don't give a fuck, but this is my friend Karkat-" wait. Did he just say "-and Kk, this is Dave."

He turns around suddenly and your heartbeat spikes. "Dave?"

"Holy shit," you breathe, unable to do more than wheeze out small laughs. "You're friends with Sollux? You a masochist or something?"

"Holy shit," he breathes back, his eyebrows raising. He obviously didn't expect to see you again. Neither did you, honestly. 

"Yeah, holy shit."

Sollux draws his eyebrows together. "Wait. You guys... Know each other? Fuck. Okay, slow down."

"Small world, I guess." John pipes up from beside you. "So much for 'Dave's and Karkat are going to kill each other', huh? Look, they're already friends, no sweat, dude!"

Sollux rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. "Well, if they both killed each other I'd have minus two assholes in my life to worry about, so I'unno if this is actually a winning situation." You can tell he's joking (or you think he is) because he quirks a small smile after speaking and Karkat shoves him sideways.

With your anxiety slowly melting off of you and your thoughts about James slightly ebbing, you make your way to the couch. Maybe things will be alright after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hint: things wont be okay. not for awhile.
> 
> thanks for reading and see u guys next time. leave some feedback if youre feeling kind lmao


	5. Oh Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rape tw. victim blaming. self harm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol so... sorry for the absence. but heres another chapter. and its my birthday, so this is kind of like,,,,my reverse bday gift to my readers lmao. rape tw for this chapter and some sexual stuff.

When you wake up the next morning, there is a feeling of all-encompassing fear that consumes your entire being before you remember where you are. Last night, you had all (Rose, Jake, Karkat, Sollux, John, and Jade-- Tavros and Roxy were not able to make it) watched movies until you'd passed out from exhaustion. You feel a leg over your stomach and you're pretty sure your arm is over someone's chest. 

"Dave, nice to see you're finally awake as well. The early bird catches the worm, you know." You tilt your head back at the chipper voice and blearily look at Jake, who's nursing a cup of what you assume is coffee in the doorway to the -- kitchen. You wish it wasn't so hard for you to think that word or even say it after the incident, but it washes over you like cold water the moment you think it. Well, so much for having a good time today, huh. 

"Oh. Uh, morning Jake. What time is it?"

"Half-past time to move your tushes and start the day," he replies, a bit too loud for your tastes, especially in the early morning. His booming voice causes someone to stir beside you and groan, which makes someone else groan, which results in the rest of your friends waking up and all staring at Jake pointedly. "Oh well," he remarks. "It was about time! And John's dad has prepared us a wonderful breakfast so it's only fair you should all be awake to enjoy his hard work."

Oh shit, you think to yourself. Time to do this.

Standing groggily, you watch Karkat as he gets up off of the floor (he's wearing pajama pants with tiny hearts printed on them, oh my god) and follow the others into the dining room, distancing yourself by standing in the very back. They chat among themselves in a way that almost makes you want to pull all of your hair out. How is everything normal for them? How can they be this happy when you were--

"Soups on," James jokes as he comes from the kitchen with armfuls of plates balanced on him. The smell of bacon wafts over to you and it may just be your imagination, but you think he mightve stared at you for a few seconds as he was coming out. "Help yourselves, kids."

Everyone rushes forward in a blur of words and sounds and the clinking of plates and silverware fills the air. You feel stuck. Trapped in James' gaze. You want to kill him. You want to kill him. You want to _kill_ him. He said he couldn't control himself around you because of how "cute" and "flustered" you always seem, so you resolve to become something he will despise and refuse to touch in the first place. He may have promised not to do anything to you again, but if you've learned anything, it's that he's a fucking liar. You can't trust anyone anymore. Doing that'll just hurt you in the end.

Like he did.

You're broken out of your stupor when Karkat nudges your shoulder. Repressing the cringe you feel rising at being touched, you look down at him. "Go on," he insists, "take it." 

Oh he's... Holding out a plate of bacon and eggs to you. You grab it with a slight nod to him and use a fork John hands you to poke around the food on the plate for the next 20 minutes while everyone else eats. You get a few bites down before your stomach starts to protest, already feeling sick from the look James gave you a bit earlier. Why'd you even come here in the first place? This was a bad idea. You want to go home.

Rose's voice sounds from a few feet away. "Really Dave, so soon?" 

Nice. You said that out loud, dumbass. 

"Wait, what'd he say?" John asks from beside Sollux, who seems to just want to mind his own business.

"He said he wanted to go home," Jade quips helpfully from beside you. Jesus, how had you not noticed they were all still around you? That you weren't alone? Fucking. Dumbass.

"Why?" John whines. "We were all going to play videogames next, Sollux even brought his PS4. Do you really have to?"

You feel your hands start to shake and nod your head quickly, faking a quick check to your phone. “Bro’s bitching at me, gotta fly” you say. You figure that you can just walk back home and sleep off the bad mood you put yourself into. Sleep off the memories and sleep off the thoughts about James.

You think Rose gives you a look, but that’s pretty normal for her. To act as if she knows something that even you don’t. Karkat looks at you expectantly but doesn’t say anything as you stand, grab your shit, and make your way to the hallway.

Right as you go to say your goodbyes, a warm hand falls onto your shoulder and your entire body goes cold.  
“Where’re you going, son?” James asks you, smoothing over your shirt. You feel like the world has slowed down around you, and the only two people that exist anymore are you and the man standing, looming over you expectantly. The hair on your arms raises under your sleeves and goosebumps prickle up on your skin. The feeling of being touched by John's Dad is akin to being burned alive and frozen at the same time, but most of all, it makes you afraid. Very very afraid. 

With all of your talk of being strong and resisting, you sure are a fucking pussy.

Everyone in the livingroom is chatting among themselves, though you’d swear Karkat was staring at you if you didn’t feel as if the world around you was nonexistent. 

“Home,” you say, robot-like. Cold. Steel. You feel like one of the many katanas in your Bro’s collection. Lifeless. 

“In this weather?” He asks, feigning the kindest and warmest voice he can manage. You feel like you’re going to vomit as you take a glance out of the nearest window. You handn’t even realized it was pouring outside. 

“It’s not that far of a walk,” you insist, shuffling towards the hall. “I really should get going."

"Just let my dad give you a ride!" John pipes up from across the room. He's looking at you, you realize. Suddenly, it feels like the bubble around you and James has shattered. "Honestly, the _last_ thing you need is to get sick again!" No, John. The last think you need is to get raped again. Your initial excuse for being so despondent has backfired on you tremendously. Yet again, you feel like the dumbest piece of shit alive. Did you really think you'd be able to escape being alone with James?

"He was sick, you say?" James looks down on you and tisks with worry. "Oh Dave, we really should get you home again. With finals coming up, I agree-- getting sick would not fare you well. Not at all." James rubs your shoulder again, and you swear that your heart is plunging straight down into your guts. You feel your face get hot with brief panic that you manage to mask in favor of nodding softly. Everyone is still chatting with each other, oblivious to whats going on. Oblivious to what James is doing. Namely: you.

"Okay, fine." You say, feeling very much like you're walking straight to your death. "Let's just go and get this over with," you finish under your breath, following James to the door without another glance or goodbye to your friends. You miss the worried look Karkat gives you, too consumed with your thoughts. He did this on purpose. He's trying to get you alone with him so he can hurt you again. 

You slip into the car and slam the door, the rain on your jacket dampening the leather seats of James' van. You stare resolutely out of your window as James gets in and breathe deeply instead of thinking about his presence. Don't look at him. Don't look at him.

He pulls out of the driveway and continues down the street in silence. Before you can stop yourself, you blurt: "I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you think."

James laughs, "What a relief. I wouldn't want the boy I love to be afraid of me, would I?"

You open your mouth to say that he's wrong. That you don't want him to love you, that you want nothing more than for him to die. That you're lying, that you are so, so afraid. You're terrified. But your mouth stays open, useless, and he looks at you slyly like this was his plan all along. In a way, you wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.

"Don't worry," He says, slowly pulling into an alleyway only a few blocks from your apartment. No. Nonononono. You were so close. "I know it's hard to get alone time together... What with John at home and all. But don't overthink it, it won't get in the way of us."

Us. There's that word again. There is no US, you want to yell. There is no you and James, James and Dave. But in the end, you can only manage to croak a useless, "Please," as he smiles at you. Your hands shake as he pulls over and comes to a complete stop. Your breath hitches in your throat.

"It's all right, Pet. I know you're anxious, but I'll be gentle with you. Promise."

"Y-you," after a few stuttering breaths, you lick your lips and try again. Your entire body feels like it's been hopped up on electricity. "You p-promised you wouldn't."

James puts the car into park and puts his large hand on your upper thigh almost immediately. Stroking up and down. Moving inwards. "Just remember," he says, unbuckling his seat-belt and leaning over to you. "It's your fault. I did promise, I know. But you've made it impossible for me to resist." He threads his other hand through your hair and yanks, making you gasp feebly. Forcing your faces together, he kisses you while the rain beats down on the car. "You walk around acting so confident, so sure of yourself." The hand on your thigh inches closer to your crotch. Closer. His voice is a whisper in the rush of rain and the pounding of your heart. "I see the way you dress, acting like you're so modest with your sweatshirts. But I know the truth about you. You're hungry for something else, aren't you, Dave?"

You feel like your dying. Every nerve of your body is on end. By the time his hand comes into contact with your dick through your pants, you're practically trying to push yourself back into the seat.

"You're hungry for someone with experience. Someone older to train you. And luckily, I love little boys that are just _begging_ to get a cock in them."

No. No you're not. Please. No. That's not what you want, you're not like that, are you? He has to be lying. Your hand shoots out to grab the door handle. Maybe you can run back without him catching you. But James' hand catches yours and he forces it away from the door.

"Dave," he says, harshly. "Remember what I said about me telling John. I was serious." His fingers trail up to your pants zipper and he pulls it down agonizingly slow. _ZZZZZZZZZZZCHK_ "Do you want me to tell him what a slut you've been? He'd hate you, even _you_ aren't dumb enough to think he'd ever believe you over me."

You shake your head. "N-"

Forcing you through the middle of the row into the backseat of his minivan, he grabs both of your wrists and shoves you down under him. You start to thrash side to side, more desperate than you ever were the last time this happened to you. James yanks down your pants as if your struggling isn't even affecting him, but after tugging on his hold for a few more seconds he picks you up by the wrists and slams you back down onto the seat, knocking the wind right out of you immediately. "Stay still," he hisses, pulling down your underwear and letting it pool with your jeans at your ankles. "Or do you want me to call my son and tell him you tried to fuck me in the back of my own van?"

Choking on your whimpers, the hopelessness of the situation finally dawns on you and you go slack in his hold. James huffs a 'finally' out and you hear the clink of his buckle, a sound that haunts you to your very core. He strokes your hair with one hand and stokes himself with his other as he mutters to himself above you. Numbly staring at the grey ceiling above you, you give in. 

\--

"Stop crying," James says, wiping himself off. You painfully drag your pants back up and curl up in the backseat, not bothering to move. "I said stop crying!"

You do. Or, you try to. He climbs back into the driver's seat and puts the car back into drive, mumbling to himself about you making it seem like he's the bad guy by sobbing about it. 

Once he arrives in front of your apartment, you move to hobble out, but he stops you once more. "Dave." You go still, eyes on your feet. Waiting. "I know that I was rough on you, but if you hadn't struggled it wouldn't have been like that. I'll make it up to you next time." Ah, next time. You're never going to escape this, are you? "If you come over like you're supposed to every weekend and be an obedient boy, I'll have no reason to tell John." Haha. You want to die. 

You give a slight nod as your fingers tighten around the strap of your backpack. James reaches over and turns you around, planting a soft kiss on your unresponsive lips. You've learned that it doesn't matter if you respond or not. He'll still take and take and take from you without remorse.

"I love you," he says. But when you don't respond, he sighs and tells you that you're allowed to leave.

As you're exiting the car, he calls your name from behind you. Without turning around, you wait for him to say what he must. "Remember, I'm doing this because you asked for it. This is all for you."

The door shuts. It isn't raining anymore.

\--

By the time you get back up to your apartment, your phone is blowing up with notifications from Pesterchum. Tiredly, with an absence of any care, you open the app and scroll through the messages, not really registering the words, no matter how hard you try. 

CG: HEY. UH, SOLLUX GAVE ME YOUR HANDLE. HOPE THAT WASN'T TOO INVASIVE OF ME. OH WELL.   
CG: THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT. I WANTED TO MESSAGE YOU AND ASK IF YOU WANTED TO HANG OUT SOMETIME. MAYBE GO GET COFFEE OR PLAY SOME SHIT ON STEAM TOGETHER.   
CG: AND YOU'RE NOT RESPONDING SO I ASSUME YOU'RE NOT AVAILABLE RIGHT NOW. BUT MESSAGE ME BACK IF YOU EVER FEEL UP TO THIS   
CG: THIS IS KARKAT, BY THE WAY. IF THE OBNOXIOUS TEXT AND ASSHOLEISH VERNACULAR DIDN'T TIP YOU OFF ALREADY.

Feeling more like trash than ever before, you turn off your phone and go to the bathroom for a nice hot shower, not even bothering to answer. Why'd Karkat even want to be friends with you? You're just a screw-up. A screw-up who's let his friend's dad rape him. Twice. And has gotten off on it. Twice.

You turn the heat up and get in, more aware than ever that you don't deserve any friends. You've betrayed John, your best bro, in the worst way possible. You know he'd never be able to look at you if he knew what you've been doing. Resolving not to cry over it again, you sit under the steaming water until Bro comes home and scratch at your skin until you bleed.


	6. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dont ask why the trolls still use quirks even tho theyre human in this au.... lets just all pretend theyre "edgy" or something lmao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for how late this was. i had surgery and i was fuckin GONE for almost two weeks. hope this isnt too "filler"-y for you guys, bc i actually think its kind of an important transition chapter regarding k and d's relationship 
> 
> enjoy lol (featuring my art)
> 
> tw in chapter for sexual harassment, alcohol, and overzealous characters lmao

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=15qyp6o)  
(quick pick of how i imagine dave in this fic myself. woooo,,)

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 23:20 --

CG: HEY.  
TG: uh hey  
TG: sorry btw for not replying to you for a few days  
TG: been busy and shit you dig??  
CG: YES I "DIG". IT MUST BE HARD BEING SO COOL AND POPULAR, YOU MUST HARDLY HAVE ANY TIME FOR YOURSELF!  
CG: /SARCASM.  
TG: haha very funny  
TG: but anyway sup  
CG: I'M ACTUALLY LEAVING THE HOUSE IN A FEW MINUTES. SOME ASSHOLES I GO TO SCHOOL WITH AT GREEN SUN ARE DRAGGING ME TO THIS DUMB PARTY OR SOMETHING.  
CG: WELL. MORE LIKE *SNEAKING* OUT OF MY HOUSE, BUT THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT.  
TG: your parents strict or something?  
TG: and i didnt really picture you as the party going type so color me surprised i guess  
CG: YOU COULD SAY THAT, YES.  
CG: ALSO, I'M NOT. I WOULDN'T BE GOING TO THIS FUCKING PARTY AT ALL IF MY FRIENDS DIDN'T NEED ME TO WATCH THEIR SORRY ASSES TO KEEP THEM OUT OF TROUBLE.  
TG: well have fun babysitting all of your rich-kid friends lmao  
CG: HA. HA.  
CG: YEAH I'LL HAVE FUN DRIVING ALL OF MY SHITFACED PEERS HOME AT LIKE. FOUR IN THE MORNING?  
CG: UGH. WHY'D I AGREE TO THIS. I MIGHT JUST DROP DEAD BEFORE THE NIGHT IS EVEN OVER, HONESTLY.  
TG: you can get through this man  
TG: just  
TG: think of how hard solluxd kick your ass if you died doing something as stupid as babysitting a bunch of snotty rich kids  
CG: YEAH. GOOD POINT. THE LAST THING I NEED IS TO GET THAT PRICK'S BOOT UP MY ASS OVER SOMETHING DUMB.  
CG: ANYWAY, THANKS FOR THE PEP-TALK. I HAVE TO GO THOUGH OR I'LL BE LATE FOR MY "CHAUFFEUR JOB".  
TG: try not to die too hard  
CG: UGH, NO PROMISES. TALK TO YOU LATER.  
\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 23:35--

Chucking your phone away from you, it takes you a moment to realize that you're smiling a bit. As sad as it is, you think this might be the first time you've actually smiled at anything in a solid week or two. With everything around you happening all at once, you kind of forgot that your lips could... stretch into something that wasn't a grimace. 

The smile melts back to your usual neutral look as you roll over in bed. Just as you're about to close your eyes and drift back into a hopefully nightmareless sleep, your phone pings again and you turn to grope for it.

Huh.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 23:40--  
CG: FUCK IT. DO YOU WANT TO COME TOO, DAVE?  
TG: huh ?  
CG: DO YOU WANT ME TO PICK YOU UP? I MEAN.  
CG: FUCK WHAT WAS I DOING BY ASKING YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE.  
CG: I GUESS I JUST THOUGHT IT WOULD BE LESS INSUFFERABLE WITH YOU THERE. AT THE PARTY I MEAN.  
TG: youre actually inviting me for real?  
CG: YEAH, IT'S NOT LIKE I'M ASKING YOU FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES. I CONSIDER YOU A FRIEND OF MINE AND ONE OF MY MORE TOLERABLE ONES, AT THAT.  
TG: uh i mean  
TG: yeah sure why not  
TG: how long do you think itd take for you to get here?  
CG: WHAT'S YOUR ADDRESS?

You bite your lip and sit up in bed, sending it to him. You figure that you might as well go, as much as you hate parties. Bro won't be home until six in the morning and more than anything, you feel like you need to get out of your apartment for a while. This place is too quiet and too stifling. Most of the time, you aren't even sure that you exist when you're in this damn house. In the back of your mind, something tells you that this is the perfect chance for you to be reckless and ruin yourself over everything you've been agonizing over. Maybe you'll have a good time. Probably not, but it'll probably a better time than you're having right now. And you can't deny to yourself that you don't feel good about being invited by Karkat, even though you haven't known him for very long. Something about him calling you his friend and saying that you'd make the whole thing less insufferable makes you feel good about yourself in a way you can't describe. Plus, the thrill of possibly getting out of this slump is too large to ignore.

CG: OKAY, I'LL BE THERE IN FIVE MINUTES, GIVE OR TAKE A FEW. THINK YOU CAN BE READY BY THEN?  
TG: yeah totally  
TG: sweep me away my man  
CG: JUST MEET ME OUTSIDE OF YOUR APARTMENT COMPLEX WHEN I GET THERE. AND I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE FOR MY FRIENDS.  
CG: THEY CAN BE A BIT... MUCH.  
TG: dude they cant be as bad as like 90% of the people i know trust me  
TG: itll be fine im used to being surrounded by obnoxious assholes  
CG: HA. IF YOU SAY SO. SEE YOU IN A BIT.  
TG: uh yeah bye see you

You throw on some of your not as shitty clothing as quickly as you can, avoiding touching your skin as much as humanly possible, and toe on your shoes before creeping out of your room cautiously. You know it's kind of stupid to be looking for Bro around every goddamn corner because you know rationally that he isn't home, but you guess you've just been kind of... Out of it lately. More paranoid, you guess.

You grab your spare keys off the bathroom sink and quickly fix up your hair (and wash off the dried blood you find under your fingernails). You spend as little time in the bathroom as possible before you're leaving, locking the door right behind you. With apprehension swimming in your gut, you tell yourself you're fine with this. It's just a party. With a bunch of people you don't know. From Green Sun, a school you don't even go to. With Karkat. The kid you've already made a fool of yourself in front of before. Yeah, this won't be a disaster at all.

Swearing to yourself that you won't fuck this one up for Karkat OR yourself, you stand outside of the dingy complex you call home (more or less) and wait for Karkat's car to pick you up.

\---

Karkat was right. His friends are absolute _douchebags_. He shoots you a sympathetic glance as you get into his BMW and sit right between this kid with coiffed purple dyed hair and a girl with glossy blue lipstick and extremely long eyelashes. You're kind of smushed between them, and the kid with the annoying hair kind of glares at you, but the girl to your right gives you a look that's downright _predatory_.

Karkat starts driving, the tinny of some pop song coming from the stereo up front. At first, no one speaks, and the only noises to be heard are the tapping of nails against one of the doors and the music playing. The girl is the first one to break the silence. "Karkat! Introduce me to your friend, you rude piece of shit." Karkat rolls his eyes, and you know she's probably joking more than anything, but you still have to fight to stay still and not squirm in your seat. She leans over to you and runs a finger down your neck, her pointed nail tickling your skin. It makes your pulse spike and your palms sweat. "I mean, you only talk about him all the time." She drawls her words out, laughing and sitting back in her seat, apparently satisfied with your reaction.

What? He does? Karkat blushes and mumbles something under his breath before he looks at the three of you through his rear-view mirror. "Dave, that's Vriska. She's a bitch but she's pretty harmless. Vriska, that's Dave. Leave him the fuck alone." With a little huff from the kid with the hair, Karkat rolls his eyes. "And that piece of work is Eridan. Also harmless. But somehow even MORE annoying." 

"Love you too Kar," Eridan says, looking out of his side window at the blur of streetlamps and house lights. 

You squirm a bit more and Vriska slings an arm over you easily, making you go rigid. If she particularly notices, she doesn't say anything. "Relax, dude. We're not gonna bite your head off. Well, Eridumbass might, but that's speaking of your other head."

Eridan splutters and fidgets with the cuffs of his sleeves. "Vris! Would you shut the fuck up already?"

Vriska detangles from your body, making you release tension almost instantly, and shrugs. Looks like she's gotten bored of harassing you and not getting any response. Karkat clears his throat. "We're here, if you're done acting like five year-olds back there."

Immediately, Vriska and Eridan hop out of the car and bound off to the house you pulled up to, but not with a joking "Yes, mom" to Karkat first. You're left in the backseat with a bitter taste in your mouth and shaking hands. Why can't you make them fucking stop? Come on asshole, you're making an idiot of yourself again, pull it together. You're here to have a good time.

"Hey, you okay?" Karkat asks, climbing out from the drivers seat. "Sorry, they uh. Come on a bit strong. I can drive you home if you don't want to be here. It was kind of an assholish thing of me to do to guilt you to coming here with us last second, haha." He rubs nervously at his arm and smiles at you timidly from outside of the car, and you slowly peel your useless body from the seat and move towards him. Why does he have to act like that, like he did anything wrong? He did nothing. You're the one making a goddamn commotion out of nothing.

"No," you reply, your entire body slowly grinding back to life. "It's okay, sorry. I just don't really-- like people touching me." You finish lamely, pulling yourself out of the car and into the cold air. "I'm okay. Scouts honor."

Karkat eyes you for a moment, but otherwise doesn't call you out on your bluffing. He slams the car door shut and starts walking to the party with you instead. "You aren't a fucking boy-scout," he says, grinning slightly. "That implies actually going out into the great outdoors, and I don't think you'd survive without your phone for more than an hour."

"Actually, two hours," you supply. "And yeah, I'd be a pretty lousy scout anyway."

"Eh, scouts are lame." Karkat shrugs and you smile a bit despite the anxiety gnawing at your stomach.

The house the party is being held at is pretty big, at least to your poor ass. Two stories, nestled in a small cluster of woods. The place is pretty secluded, the closest house being a block or so away, merely a twinkle of light between the array of trunks. In front of the house, clusters of tall flowers, the bird of paradise, block the windows slightly from view, though the strobe-like lights inside still flash through the windows.

Karkat stops you before you head in. "You can stay with me if you want," he says. You kind of resent him for his kindness. What have you done to deserve this? "And if anyone gives you shit, tell me alright?" He holds your gaze until you nod and sighs, smiling again. But you refuse to be a burden for him the WHOLE night.

"I think I'll join up with you in a bit," you say slowly. "I'm going to uh... Look around." Trying no to feel like a clingy piece of garbage, you miss his disappointed look as you wave, mutter a 'see you later', and disappear into the wave of bodies. You're here for a good time, you repeat to yourself. You're here for a distraction.

Immediately, you're skinny frame is knocked among the swaying, a thrumming beat pulsing through your entire body. You make your way to (hopefully) somewhere quiet when your arm is grabbed and you're yanked through the crowd and into--- A Kitchen.

"Heeeey hotstuff," Vriska drawls, turning to face you. "Looked pretty lost there, thought I'd help you out a bit, yeah? You look stressed, here, have a beer." 

She thrusts an unopened bottle towards you and you look down at it suspiciously. What's even happening? Why is everything going so quickly? You're starting to regret leaving Karkat. "Well?" Vriska asks impatiently. Her voice is kind of scary. She is kind of scary. "What're you waiting for, an invitation? Start drinking, asslick. You're stressed and it's like, really bumming the mood." 

You crack it open, your knees clicking a bit underneath you. Yeah. You're bumming out the mood. Nice job, just fucking drink you prick. "Loosen up," Vriska tells you. Yeah, loosen up. "Have a good time."

You're in a Kitchen. The floor is made of a similar tile to the one in the Egbert household; perverse images flash through your mind and steady your resolve suddenly. You aren't here to be a pussy.

Fuck it. You take a quick sip, already having experience with alcohol because of the few times Bro would force you to drink beer with him as a kid. You only grimace a little and look back at Vriska, who's smiling again. She gives you a thumbs up. "Okay, my work here is done. Now go and have some fun and stop looking like such a reject." She disappears before you can event take offense. Instead, you look around at the kitchen. At the dining table. At the plates and mugs and

You take another swig. 

\---

After thirty or so minutes of drinking and five beers or so later you're feeling pleasantly warm and fuzzy, your fingers feel almost numb with how full your body feels, and you almost knock your shades off your face more than once. While searching for Karkat, you find yourself being pushed against the wall with an even hotter body against yours. These fucking Green Sun kids are so--

"W... What're you doing?" You slur, weakly trying to pry the sweaty guy off of you. "Lemme go." You feel stupid, dirty, and repulsive as a mouth attaches itself to your neck, and your breath goes funny like it does when James-- does things with you. All sharp and fast, like you're a trapped animal. The beer you were holding in your hand (it was empty. Does that make 6? You're a fucking idiot for thinking that drinking would help you at all. Look at you.) drops to the carpet with a heavy thud, and the guy eating your neck off shoves his hands deep into the sides of your pants, rubbing your thighs.

Is this seriously happening again? You wonder to yourself, with burning hatred, how you let yourself be caught off guard _again_. Pathetic.

Going hazy, you try and shove again, getting more frantic as the seconds pass. You're no longer at the party, being molested by some asshole, you're back in the van, the rain pounding down on the car, James pulling at your clothes, he's eating you alive, he's eating you alive, pulling you apart, ruining you, he lovesyouhelovesyouhelovesyou, he's a fucking liar. The words rip themselves from your throat as you feel a feeble sob start to rise as the hopelessness mounts. "Please, James. Let me g--"

The guy is shoved to the ground and someone is yelling, someone is yelling. You want to curl up in a ball, you didn't do anything wrong, you want them to stop yelling, but you soon realize that they're not yelling at you and slowly crack open your eyes. 

Oh. It's

Karkat.

"--You piece of _SHIT_ I'm going to tear you to shreds, Cronus. You fucking watch your back, you filthy goddamn--" 

Oh. You can't deal with this.

Shaking, you fast walk, hopelessly needing to escape. Some people are staring at you, but you can't find it in yourself to care as you readjust your clothes and scramble to find the door, please, you need to get OUT. The corners of your vision start to get black by the time you see the front, and you vomit right on the Bird of Paradise by the window the second you get outside. Someone laughs, another person makes a disgusted gag at your wretching, but you're shaking, and you feel disgusting. This is your fault. Why'd you think coming to this party was going to distract you? You can't run away from anything, and this proves that you just make yourself a big fucking miserable target wherever you go. Even trying to fuck yourself up didn't work out like you had planned.

You sit on the curb and put your head in your hands, and a few moments later, you hear footsteps coming up behind you. Flinching a bit, you calm down when you realize that it's only Karkat. 

It's silent for a few moments before he sits down beside you. You're so fucking pathetic. This is the second time you've been a wreck in front of him, and it's so stupid. You're so stupid. You sniffle, glad that at least you're not crying too.

"I'm so fucking sorry," he says in a rush, deflating beside you. "I thought-- I don't know what I thought. I guess I assumed this night wasn't going to be such a disaster, and I'm really fucking sorry that you got pulled into any of this."

You glance up at him and his eyes are watering and nope, nope you can't do this, he's going to make you cry too, dammit. "It's. It's okay," you say, drawing your knees to your chest. "I'm alright."

"But it's not!" Karkat insists. "It's not okay, and I could've prevented it from even happening if I wasn't such a--"

As if you haven't had worse.

"Don't blame yourself, alright?" You snap, " _I_ was th' one that fuckin' decided to drink. I should've been able to fuckin' protect myself. It's not your fault, get it?"

"So it's yours, then?" Karkat asks, burning red. You feel something in your chest ache. Something like defiance, but it burns out, melting under the guilt on your chest. Why wouldn't it be your fault, you want to scream. It always is.

"O-of course it wasn't." You lie. "I just-- Fuck. Can we not talk about this anymore?" You rub your hands on your face and stand up, Karkat following suit. "Just. I'm not mad at you or anything, I'm okay. Can I crash at your place tonight? If my Bro finds out I got drunk without his permission on top of sneaking out he's going to kill me." You're fucking screwed either way. You guess you'll text him and say that you're staying at John's or something if you have to. God, you're just fucking up everything tonight, aren't you?

Karkat looks hesitant, but he nods anyway. "Here, let me just tell Vriska and Eridan that they're going to have to find another ride. If you get in my car, I'll be back in a second." Karkat mumbles something about having Eridan kick his idiot cousin Cronus (ah. the guy who pinned you. figures that he and Eridan would be related) into the sun as he storms off. You shiver suddenly as you realize how cold it is outside and stiffly walk back to Karkat's car, shuffling into the backseat. What a wonderful night, you're so glad you came. Not.

And it's not like it's Karkat's fault. He's great, he really is, and you don't deserve him, you don't deserve a friend who always keeps you busy whenever you pester him. You're fucking filth, and the proof lies in the fact that every goddamn person in a five mile radius around your being at all times apparently wants to fuck you without your consent. You're never safe, and at this point, you're only a toy to be used by others. To be broken and snapped in half. Again and again and again. 

Karkat is back before you spiral too far and starts the car instantly. He doesn't say much until the end of the trip, letting you stew in your own thoughts. Eventually, however, he blurts: "Who's James?" 

"What?" 

"You uh. Called Cronus that, when he was--" Karkat goes quiet again, his grip on the steering wheel hardening. Your breath goes funny again as you think of hands. Hands touching you hands violating you. Hands grabbing and never letting go. You think Karkat notices when you start to lose yourself, but he doesn't say anything, still waiting for any answer.

"No one," You end up saying. "Someone C-Cronus reminded me of. I mean. But it isn't a big deal. I mean, It's not something worth discussing." You stare out of the window as the houses pass before your eyes and try to stop thinking about everything. It proves to be pretty damn futile.

Karkat nods softly, but you can tell he thinks you're lying. You feel so terrible. You're inconveniencing him now. After he brought you to a party, saved you, and tried to comfort you. All you seem to do is cause Karkat problems. "Okay," he says quietly, like he's speaking to someone a lot younger than the both of you are. "I'm still really sorry," he says, pulling up to a gated estate. "I'm supposed to be the friend that helps people _not_ feel like shit. And yet I wasn't able to do anything for you, and I am truly sorry, Dave."

Fuck. Will this guy shut up already? It's not his fault, it's yours. Can't he get that through his thick skull? "Nothing to be sorry about," you insist as he parks his car up beside a garage. You try not to be too surprised that Karkat lives in a nice house like this. He goes to Green Sun, after all. "I feel like I'm the one who should be sorry," you confess under your breath. With your body still achingly hyped up on adrenaline, you feel like you could spill every single one of your secrets to this boy. "I'm always breaking down around you. It must be fucking exhausting to deal with me."

He shakes his head, turning off the car's ignition. "Not in the slightest. I wouldn't be sticking around if I didn't want to be your friend, Dave. I care about what's going on in your life." The admission makes your face go a bit hot as you stumble out of the car. He leads you to the backyard in silence, as you don't dare to respond, and sneaks you back inside with a swiftness worthy of your brother's caliber. 

The sky is only beginning to brighten up as you curl up on the couch Karkat has in his room (a couch in his room!) you don't glance around or speak to him much more other than offering him thanks for helping you out. He tells you it isn't something to thank him for. He says sorry again. In turn, you threaten to punch him in the face if he apologizes one more damn time. Karkat assures you that his dad won't come in his room in the morning and discover you, and the way he makes it sound-- scary --is not something you'll fight. This is the kid who's seen your eyes. Seen you pretty much at your worst. You barely know him, but you feel like you can trust him, even though you know it's just going to bite you in the ass one day. You're just good at making bad decisions like that.

So you say goodnight to each other in hushed tones and curl up on separate sides of the room, feeling something aching in your heart that you don't think was there before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we all just want them to be happy,,


	7. Weekend Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a lot happens and pain is abundant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok ths is out of the blue but seriously if you like fucked up fics pls check out makizushi on here. they are seriously sooo talented and write abuse so flawlessly, and yet they dont get enough recognition for how good it all is???  
> pls check their stuff out its honestly the Best and has so much raw emotion and hhhh i just really wanted to point out that their stuff is good and it deserves more love 
> 
> also idk as a csa survivor myself smtimes these updates are infrequent. i usually only write this when im having a bad time so srry for the inconsistency. but here it is

You wake up slowly and peacefully. Even with a terrible headache pulsing in your temples and behind your eyes, you still feel... Like you don't want to jump off a bridge. Which is nice.

By the time you peel yourself off of the couch you passed out on and slip on your sunglasses, you find enough energy in yourself to look around Karkat's room. He's still asleep in his (King Sized, jeez) bed, the black covers swaddled around him completely. The wall above is covered with posters from different movies that bear disgusting resemblance to the sort of trash John would watch. The walls are a light shade of grey, and everything else in his room seems to be either some shade of black to white or some shade of red to pink. It suits him, you think, as you stand up and move to wander around the room. His desk is a complete mess, with crumpled up papers and open textbooks splayed out across its surface. He has a desktop to the side and a book nestled next to it that reads: "CODING FOR DUMMIES". Ha, what a nerd.

The rest of his room is surprisingly devoid of clutter; the walls and his desk seem to be the only affected areas. It's a far cry from your annihilated apartment, but it's strangely refreshing; it feels a lot more like a home than just a living space to you, and everything is so achingly Karkat, even at first glance.

You're leafing through his dumb coding book when you hear a soft groan from Karkat as he wakes up. He rolls over and starts rubbing at his eyes with a pinched grimace. "What time is it?"

You pull out your phone from your pocket to check the time and yikes, some missed messages from Bro sit on the home screen, making your heart flutter nervously. Instead of checking the texts, you let your anxiety fester and give a straight answer. "It's noon."

Karkat lets out a heavy sigh as you pocket your phone. Really not wanting to see what you were sent, you look at your friend and try not to dwell on what Bro may or may have not sent you in response to your absence.

It's kind of weird to think that this kid saved you last night. Sure, he was the one that invited you in the first place, but you guess it all worked out (sort of) in the end. Plus, it's not like he was planning on you getting molested, you're sure it was just as inconveniencing for him as it was for you, really. Especially because he had to deal with your sorry ass when you were practically having a meltdown.

Karkat runs his fingers through his dark hair, and your eyes get distracted with how soft his hands look for a few seconds before moving down to his jaw, his nose, his bushy eyebrows. Man, he should really pluck those. Or not. You don't think he'd really have the same disgruntled Karkat look if he plucked them. 

Okay you should probably stop... Staring. You push down the guilt you feel sneaking up on you for acting like a creep and sit down in his desk chair to distract yourself. Karkat yawns and cracks his neck before flopping back on his bed. 

"Morning, sleeping beauty."

Rolling onto his side, he glares at you and muses up his own hair again. "Har har, asshole." After a moment consideration, his face screws up a bit like he's choking on words that won't come out. You stay quiet, afraid he'll bring up last night, but when Karkat tentatively asks, "How are you?" in the softest voice you've ever heard him use, you swear that you feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet for making such a big deal at the party. Biting on the inside of your cheek, you shrug a bit and swivel in his chair.

"I'm okay, really. It's over with, and that's all that matters, right?"

Karkat nods, standing, and goes to draw his blinds. "I guess, if you say so." With a moment's pause, he adds, "We really should be getting you out of here before my dad notices you, though." His fingers twitch a bit as he rifles through his stuff, closing textbooks on his desk and randomly straightening out papers laid across it. "No offense to you, though. He's just-- not really a people person."

You feel kind of bad for prying, especially because the topic seems to make him uncomfortable. But you ask anyway. "What does your dad do, anyway? Like, you've got this huge house and you go to Green Sun and shit. Doctor?" Karkat shakes his head as he compulsively straightens out some of the things on his desk. "Lawyer?" Another shake.

"He does um, freelance work." Karkat says eventually, shrugging jerkily and shoving his crumpled balls of paper into a wastebasket on the floor. 

"Freelance?" Karkat nods, and with no more of an explanation, you drop it with what feels like a mutual and unspoken agreement to respect each other's boundaries.

When you don't probe further, he insists on getting you back home, and you agree quietly. You sneak back out the way you came in mutual silence. 

Fearing the worst from Bro when you get back, you prepare yourself the entire drive, fidgeting with your hands until they begin to cramp up. You are so fucked, and a part of you resignedly doesn't give shit. Let him do whatever he wants to you, it's not like he can pull anything out of his ass that he hasn't done to you before.

Karkat smiles at you when you leave the car, the motion seeming practiced and artificial. You give him a small wave as he leaves you and ignore the ache that returns in your chest. Not bothering to attempt a smile back, you trudge inside. 

\---

Yeah.

As you hobble back to your room with a busted lip and bruised jaw (he usually doesn't lay a hand on you above the neckline. You must've really pissed him off) you try your best not to feel anything about what just happened. Bro's just like that sometimes, you tell yourself. He wouldn't have hurt you if you hadn't done something wrong in the first place. At least not this badly, anyway.

You check your phone and see two messages, one of which makes your stomach coil unpleasantly:

CG: HEY, YOU UP FOR PLAYING TERRARIA WITH ME AND SOLLUX IN A BIT?

: I expect you to be at my house on Friday after school. No later than Five. Remember our agreement, Xo.

You tighten your lips and feel a weight settle on your shoulders. Of fucking course. You choose not to answer the message from James due to a mix of defiance and anxiety burning in you and instead message Karkat back, confirming that you'd be up for a bit of gaming to calm yourself down. He shoots back an "OK, COOL" message to you as you crack open your laptop. 

\--- 

On Tuesday, you get home from school and sleep for a few hours, too exhausted to move a muscle until around five p.m. 

There's no food in the kitchen and you know that without even checking, which you wouldn't want to do anyway, because Bro hasn't been home since he royally kicked your ass into next Sunday. No Bro, no money, no food. As much as you hate the guy, he _is_ the only source of income your household has. You know that he's trying to prove a point by leaving like this, he wants you to _know_ how much you rely on him. More importantly, he wants you to know that he can crush you between two fingers if he very so wished. 

By the time you peel your grimy body out of bed to attempt some homework, your phone is blowing up with notifications. Expecting it to be Karkat, you unlock it and-- 

Oh. It's Rose. 

You debate not answering it. You debate leaving it and just pretending you didn't see it; the next message you get, however, makes your stomach clench. Sometimes, you think that Rose knows you better than you know yourself. You skim through the texts with a tight expression pulling at your face. 

TT: Hello.  
TT: Oh, you don't seem to be online. My mistake, message me when you are, I suppose.  
TT: Strider, I can see that you're on now.  
TT: Avoiding me will only work to raise my suspicions; I've known you for years. You only ignore me when you feel like you have something to hide.  
TT: Dave!  
TG: jesus lalonde cant a guy take a nap without someone trying to jack his swag ?? chill the fuck out  
TT: Now my concern has increased tenfold. You wouldn't dare use the word "swag" unless you were making a serious attempt at deflecting. As such, I will venture this once to be upfront with you and ask:  
TT: Where did you get that bruise on your jaw.

It's not a question. Fuck it's not a question. She probably already fucking knows, so why is she asking you? Taking a deep breath, you message her back with shaking hands. You feel your heart pounding in your ears. Everything hurts all of a sudden, and your breath is going funny in your chest. She's going to see right through you and everything is going to crash and burn. You're lucky enough she didn't notice the hickeys you've been hiding that happened at the party, but it seems to you that you're fucked anyway, you've gotten sloppy with hiding this, and now you're paying for it as Detective Nosy Bitch Lalonde gets on your ass about things that aren't even a big deal.

TG: i ran into my door frame  
TG: crazy right  
TG: it hurt like a bitch yesterday but its all good i feel fine now  
TG: as you said before  
TG: you know me  
TG: and youre aware of how clumsy i am sometimes its not like its that much of a surprise  
TT: Do you think I'm fucking stupid?  
TG: what  
TT: You come to school yesterday looking like hell froze over with a scab marring your lip, a limp, and a face practically littered with bruises, and expect me to believe your bullshit story? Come on, you may be fooling yourself into thinking whatever this is is fine, but I'm telling you that it is not by any and all means.  
TG: what do you even want from me?? im fucking fine  
TG: i told you the truth so back off  
TG: im tired and i have homework i should be doing right now  
TT: Dave Strider, don't you dare brush me off and make me out to be the enemy here.  
TT: We are going to talk about whatever happened because, quite frankly, as much as I give you a hard time, I care about you. And you are not "fine", not even in the slightest sense of the word.  
TT: I will not stand by and let whatever this is continue. Please, our friends are worried about you.  
TG: fuck off  
TG: and tell everyone else to fuck off too  
TG: im fine and nothing is happening so you can go eat shit lalonde  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] blocked tentacleTherapist [TT] \--

You groan, throw your phone into the wall, collapse onto your bed, and try to-- br ea th e. You feel like your life is disintegrating right before your very eyes; knowing Rose, if she finds out about what Bro does to you, it'll only be a matter of time until she finds out about James and the stuff he-- the two of you do. Together. And that can't happen. That can't-

You whine and curl up on top of your sheets, feeling sick and disgusting as you rake your nails down your arms. The burning tingle flies down your arms like an electric shock and you gasp, letting yourself lie there and wheeze out the pain accumulating in your system. How are you going to hide this from Rose? Fuck. _Fuck_.

Sudden anger makes you bristle; if Bro hadn't fucked with you above the shoulders no one would have been suspicious of anything. If he hadn't been so careless and split your lip again everything would be _fine_. You wheeze another time and squeeze your eyes shut, knowing that in the end, you can't be mad at Bro for what happened. It was your fault. All of this happened because you were dumb and selfish, because you tempted a man triple your age into fucking you, because you thought that going against Bro would turn out okay. But you just fucked everything up, fucked yourself up, and let it happen.

You just let it happen. Because you're too weak to go against them. In your heart, you know that being tossed back and forth between hurt and more hurt, abuse and more abuse, is practically all you're good for now. You ruined your self worth the moment you dared to even breathe and you only have your own damn self to blame.

Everything's falling apart, and on Friday you have to go back to James and repeat everything. Over and over and over again. You're stuck. You're fucking _stuck_.

You message Karkat for a few hours after that and he hassles you until you agree to do your homework, which he easily guessed you were avoiding.

He's really too good for you -- for a solid ten minutes you debate blocking him. Never speaking to him again. Cutting him out of your life before you can get the chance to hurt him with your negativity and the problems bubbling to the surface of your life. But in the end, you can't do it. 

Instead, you go back to annotating _Atlas Shrugged_ , feeling like you, like Atlas, have the world sitting on your shoulders, ready to fall and break with the slightest adjustment of your neck and back.

\---

On Wednesday, you hide in the library during Lunch, nestled between the shadows cast by the shelves and the books between them. You're not really surprised that no one finds you because everyone kind of just assumes you're just a dumbass anyway. Ha. Ha. Why would you be in a library Dave? To hack into the school internet system and illegally download porn?

When calc comes around, you keep your head down to hide the marks on your face and feel an almost welcomed bitterness in your chest when Terezi and John get detention after school for throwing papers at the back of your head all period. Serves them right for being friends with you, you think. It's just another reminder to yourself that everyone that dares to care about you will be hurt in the end. Filing away the nifty "reminder", you zoom from class as soon as the bell rings and manage to skillfully avoid everyone else for the rest of the day. 

The rest of the week passes similarly; you hide out in various parts of the school and ignore your friends entirely, using everything you've learned from Bro to evade them. You know you're digging yourself into a hole, but you can't _stop_. You're spiraling and there's no off button now that you've gotten the ball rolling, you just keep self destructing. And self destructing. And self destructing. 

On Thursday, Bro comes back. He says nothing to you when he arrives, and you don't even realize that he's back until you leave your room to piss and see him sitting on the futon like he never left. 

There are two loaves of bread in the pantry and a bottle of Gatorade in the sink.

You don't know what you're going to do once everything starts getting worse and how you're going to deal with all of these repercussions, but you're not really sure that you have the energy to. You'll just-- fuck. You don't know what you're doing anymore. 

The dodging and running works for you up until Friday, the day you're supposed to show up at the Egbert's household after school. Knowing that you have to see James in less than a few hours makes you a little sloppy, and as the school day ends, you become less occupied with avoiding everyone and more focused on imagining what will happen to you today. You know John has ACADECA after school on Fridays, and you know you'll be alone with his dad for hours. You debate just not going, but in a way, this feels kind of like A Punishment. And after avoiding your friends and hurting them with how selfish you've been acting, you know that you deserve it, you deserve to feel a little pain back. 

The dwelling and sloppiness lead you running straight into Rose directly after six period, and the look on her face that morphs from surprise into rage has your entire body going cold. She grabs your arm, the crowd of bodies parting around the two of you like the sea itself. Deftly, she hauls you to the side, ignoring the flinch that staggers through you at her rough touch. 

"Do you have _any_ idea how worried we've all been?" She hisses into your ear, her nails digging into your jacket. "The only indication that any of us have had regarding you even being alive has been your attendance." Your breathing starts to get a little fast and you close your eyes and try to calm down. When Rose finally gets that you're not going to bolt from her the second she lets you go, her hand untangles itself from your hoodie and her posture softens. 

"I'm sorry," you say, meaning it completely; you're sorry for being selfish, you're sorry for acting like a prick. You really are. "It was a shitty thing for me to do, I know." Your eyes stay trained at the floor, and you hear Rose sigh from beside you. 

"I'm not letting you off the hook," she says. Rose touches your shoulder gently and all of the sounds around the two of you blend together as one humming vibration. It builds up as anxiety in your skull the longer she touches you, but you try to ignore it. 

You nod. 

"You need to tell someone what's happening." 

Another nod. Like hell you actually will, though. 

"Walk home with me?" 

You jerkily shrug your shoulders and grunt noncommittally. "I 'unno. I have a lot of homework." 

"Let me rephrase that. Walk home with me, Dave." 

"And if I say no?" 

"Your funeral," she says, and despite the situation, you snort. 

"You're fucking impossible, Lalonde." 

"And you're insufferable." 

You follow Rose out of the school with your entire head buzzing. James said to be there before five. You can do that, can't you? Walk to Rose's with her, evade her questions, and get back before then? You may be cutting it close, but you're convinced that you can make it happen. You focus on the ache in your chest and the bruises and cuts on your body instead, using the pain to distract you and remind you why you have to keep quiet about all of this. it's your fault. it's your fault. It's. Your. Fault. 

Your hands shake as the minutes tick by in near-silence, so you shove them in your pockets and try to breathe normally. The wind billows around the two of you, shedding the leaves from the trees and scattering them at your feet. Rose looks at you again, her expression soft and kind and _worried_ and she sighs. "Dave, why are you so difficult?" 

"I'm not difficult," you seethe back, staring ahead of you resolutely. Rose huffs again, and the annoyed tone of her voice makes you feel like the scummiest person on earth. 

"Yeah. Sure," Rose says beside you. "You're not difficult. Which is why you avoided us all week and blocked us on Pesterchum when we showed concern for your well-being." 

"It was only a couple of days." Which is true. It's not like you'd disappeared from the world entirely, you just took a few days from seeing and speaking to them. Really, it isn't as serious as she's making it out to be. 

"Sure, Dave. A couple of days. But since Tuesday, no one has heard from you, no one knows what's going on. For all we knew, things could've been getting worse, but you wouldn't let us near you to help." When you don't answer, she ploughs on. "Do you know how shitty it feels to watch one of your best friends waste away in front of you without being able to help? Do you have any fucking idea how terrifying it is to come to school each day, worried that one of the most important people in your life will be dead and you weren't even able to do anything about it?" 

You can feel it coming off of her: pity. It makes your stomach hurt because you know you don't deserve that. You don't deserve her worry and you sure as hell don't deserve her pity. "Jesus, Rose, stop treating me like my life is some sort of shitty T.V. drama, alright? It's not like I'm in jeopardy or anything; I'm fucking fine, nothing's happening with me and I'm not going to die." 

"Nothing's happening with you? For Christ's sake, half of your face is black and blue. You've been avoiding us all week. You haven't even been updating your _shitty_ comic for the past two weeks. I'm not fucking stupid." Her voice becomes more and more frustrated by the second, and you feel sick pleasure build up in your chest as you can sense her getting more and more annoyed by your despondency. Come on, you want to say, Hate me, Hate me. 

"Fine smartass, you act like you know what's going on, so say it!" 

"I want to hear it from you." Rose stops and you realize that you both made it to her house. Turning to you, she levels your gaze coldly and asks: "What happened to your face?" 

You consider telling her everything. How unsafe you feel at home. How much you hate your brother. How much you hate yourself. But you can't, you can't say it. She probably already knows, and she probably already hates you for it. Boys don't get abused, you reason. You're supposed to be stronger than this, you have to be. In the end, you talk yourself out of it. 

You can't tell anyone, especially not Rose, of all people. She'd... You don't know. Probably mock you for it. Or worse, make you go to the police over something that isn't even a big deal. 

"Okay," you concede, hands still shaking in your pockets as you think up another lie. "I admit that I didn't run into the door-frame. I got roughed up by some guys near the park, alright? I went out late and when I was coming back home I got jumped. It's still not that big of a deal, it's not like people don't get jumped around here all the time." 

A brief look of rage flashes across her face before Rose manages composure again. She keeps her eyes locked on yours; the coldness in them reminds you of nothing but your brother, and a sick shiver goes down your spine. 

This is what you wanted, wasn't it? For her to hate you? Well, jackass, wish granted. 

"Alright," she spits. "Don't let me help you. Just stay miserable forever then, Strider. Hiding your problems has always worked _so_ well for you, hasn't it?" 

"Like you're one to talk, Lalonde. Don't get fucking preachy with me about getting help when you can't even come to school sometimes because you're so damn hungover." You break eye contact with her and shake your head. "I don't have time for this." Turning away from her, you check your watch. 4:00pm. You still have some time to get back. 

Rose watches you leave, and you feel her presence behind you like a shadow. She says no more, and you leave the way you came with the wind roaring in your ears. 

\---

You check your watch again reflexively as you jog up to the Egbert household. 4:52. You're good, you're on time. Your hands still shake as you climb the steps up to the door. You need this. You need this to happen right now. You're hurting so many people, it's only fair that you hurt yourself. You're giving in. You need this, you need this, you need his hands around your throat, you need him to blame you, you need him to hurt you. 

You knock and let yourself in when you hear him calling for you from another point in the house. Ghosting through the hall, you find yourself in front of the door to his room, and just like that, you ignore the shaking of your body and knock. Three times. "Come in, Dave." 

Look at you, giving up. Letting it happen again. How can you ever tell anyone about this when you're seeking it out? When you practically come begging for James to rape you? The door shuts behind you and a hand crawls up to your neck, caressing the side of your head. You feel like you're watching this happen from far away, far far up in the sky. You think he says something, but the darkness of his room shrouds over even his words, consumingly, and the most you can make out is a murmur from your place far away from your body: "Good." 

Yes. You can deal with being good. After disappointing Rose and failing your friends, the relief of finally doing something _right_ washes over you. 

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=ev98c3)

You need this, you repeat to yourself, even as the anxiety mounts and overflows, even as you start to dread the feeling of his hands under your clothes. You need this. He says something again, low and dirty, and you capsize into the ocean of his want, his hunger for you, feeling obedient and trained, like a dog. 

He takes what he wants from you, and you give it up willingly. 

\--- 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] unblocked tentacleTherapist [TT] \--  
TG: im sorry  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] is now an idle chum! --

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see u next time (flex emoji)


	8. Got That $weet $uffering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so short,,, im so srry tbh. i was going to write around 7k for this but school beat the shit out of me so im settling for what i can manage for now. sorry guys!!

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \--  
TT: I'm sryr.  
TT: Fr pushing you away dav.e  
TT: Youf need me and I'mm makign it all about my own in securitieys.  
TT: Fuck. SI'm sorry. iI dong want you to feel like uoy can't talk to me.

You see the messages, not knowing how to react. As much as you feel... Betrayed by the things Rose had said to you earlier today, you're more worried about her than you are about yourself. As odd as that sounds. Your heart hurts a bit when you see the messy typos, realizing that she's drunk out of her goddamn mind. You try not to think about how it's probably your fault that she's so smashed and begin with and type out a conciliating message back. 

TG: its fine i swear  
TG: we both said things we didnt mean today and did things we did mean to do

Hands on your neck, huffing in your ear, stuttering moans ripped from your throat, the feeling of his--his [***] on your lower back, sticky and wet. Everything clinging to your body like a plastic bag, waiting to suffocate you. A voice commanding you, your compliant body and bent will, so easy, so easy; yeah, haha. Regret. 

TT: How w can you act liuke you're so okay with all of this? Howere you acting like everything is fine?? It usn't, Dave.  
TG: youre drunk just  
TG: get some sleep okay im really fine  
TG: aint nothing i cant handle  
TG: you dont need to be worried about me alright im a big strong boy remember  
TG: i can deal with my own crap

Yeah, you promise. You promise that your entire body isn't sore, you promise that there IS no ache in your lower back, no rigid stiffness in your neck from ~~being held down for so long~~ things he did to you. Because you're fine, and a promise is a promise. (You try to ignore the way your stomach flips over and over and over again as images race through your mind. You're fine. You need to be. If not for yourself, then for the sake of everyone around you. No one can know what you've become, you can't slip. You can't.)

TT: Shsove it to you-- Why're you lettign your brother ABUSE you Dave?  
TT: do you rhink he deserves to be protected??  
TT: because he dontest deserve that and he has no grounds to be hitting ouy. No matter what.

Shit. You didn't think she'd actually... Say it. Your throat clenches and you think of the bruises under your sleeves that you, for once, did not get from your brother, and swear that you can feel James' cold fingers wrap around and s q u e e z e you, one digit at a time. Bro isn't even the worst of your troubles anymore, but Rose doesn't need to know that. If she thinks she's snagged the culprit, so be it, it's not like she can do shit about it in the first place. What'd she do? Call CPS? It's not like that'll help you now, you're almost old enough to move out anyway. 

Despite the sick coil of shame you feel in your stomach at seeing the word "abuse" typed out in front of you, you can't help but feel a bit of pride that she hasn't figured out what's gone on between you and James. You're safe, you remind yourself. It's not like she hasn't suspected Bro of doing things to you in the past, this is your best-case scenario. You'll be okay as long as no one figures out what James has turned you into (or just brought out of you: a desperate slut). You just. No one can know about _that_

Consoling yourself isn't working; you feel like a fucking idiot, she shouldn't know in the _first place_. But she does, and it's your fault for not being quiet enough, smart enough, avoidant enough.

TG: im  
TG: not protecting him  
TG: look i just  
TG: im 17 rose by the end of next year im going to be moving out anyway  
TG: theres no point in changing anything now

When she fails to respond right away, you can feel your throat beginning to tighten in a pathetic fit of desperation. You need-- You want-- You rush to rationalize everything, too afraid to do anything else, too guilty, too sick. Everything is wrong.

TG: and its not even that bad or that often it only happens when im the one doing annoying shit  
TG: and bros gotta set me straight  
TG: i can be pretty annoying rose you know that  
TT: Youu seriously can't belive that you desrte what hes doing to yu?  
TT: Newsflash: you don"t. No one deserves this.

Your fingers hover over the keys for a few seconds and you think about all of the nasty things you've told yourself in order to make the thoughts go away, the times you've blamed yourself and walked straight into abuse KNOWING what was in store for you. You think of earlier today and an ache spreads through your lower back; everything hurts, and it has to be your fault. Who else would the blame fall on? James? Bro? Please. You've brought all of this pain onto yourself, hurt your body, ruined your mind, and betrayed your best bro by _fucking_ his dad behind his back; what does that make you? 

You notice too late that you're lost in thought. The ding of Pesterchum shatters your floating and drags you back into your body, if only long enough for you to feel disgusted with yourself for allowing the slip in your diligence to keep this hidden. Again, you berate yourself for not-- for-- 

Shit. 

TT: Dave  
TT: You haventt messged me back.  
TT: Yoi're beating yoursel f up because i found yout, right?  
TT: Please, I'mm not an idiot.  
TG: says the drunk  
TG: look rose just  
TG: go to bed alright  
TT: I've had my suspicions for a while nowe, so don't think waht you're thinkng. There was no hiding it, as it shoul dn;t be hidden anyway.  
TT: cCan you promise me youll do something Dave?  
TG: depends on what it is   
TG: because if you think you can trick me into reporting this to the police youve got another thing coming  
TG: bc im not  
TG: im not  
TT: I understanf. Just  
TT: Can youy promise to let me ehlp you?  
TT: I'm not letying you go through this alone and I'm sick f you pretend ing it's okay.  
TT: Please, jus t oromise me that you'll let me help in awnyway I can, even if it's just by being your family.  
TG: i  
TG: alright ill  
TG: ill let you help  
TT: Primise me.  
TG: i promise  


You are 

THE biggest asshole of the century. You sigh and wring your hands together, feeling your stomach turn again and a headache come on. You're on your way to failing three of your classes, you have to keep meeting with James, and now Rose is on your case. You can't imagine things getting any worse than this. But really, how can you go to Rose for help when you can't even face yourself? How can you promise when your entire life is becoming this huge fucking secretive lie? You're repulsive, you're _repulsive_ , and no one should have to deal with your shit but you, that's why its YOUR SHIT. 

TG: alright so uh  
TG: im going to go to bed  
TG: you should probably um  
TG: do the same its late  
TG: so ill see you monday i guess  
TT: Yeah.  
TT: Stau safe.  
TT: and Rememer. If your trash brother touches you roughly again, he'll have to answer to me.  
\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] \-- 

You close up your laptop, a sigh falling from your lips. Rose's prying makes it really hard for you to push every memory of what's happened out of your mind. Makes it hard for you to accept that this is just something you have to deal with to keep your friendship with John; you need to make sure you don't fuck this up. Dragging your fingers through your hair, you roll over your side and curl up by the wall, falling into a fitful slumber. 

\-- 

The next week passes by slowly for you, a mix of dread and despair claws at you constantly, but what scares you the most is that you think you're starting to get used to this. You're starting to get used to the anxiety, the fear, the _anticipation_ of it all, and like your relationship with Bro, your feelings about John's dad begin to numb and ice over. The indifference has settled over you, the resignation; you know you're not getting out, you're fucking stuck, and the way your body just _accepts_ it further drives home the guilt you feel in your entire system over giving in like some wuss. 

You've sort of been able to blend back into your friend group again, and you're endlessly grateful that they're not making it weird by asking any questions. They give no hint as to whether or not they're still worried about you, and other than the sidelong glances you get from Rose once in a while, things have more or less gone back to... Normal. 

You go over to John's house with him a few times during the school week to hang, though you cling to his side like a parasite the whole time. He laughs and shoves you as he teases you for apparently "not being able to get enough of him", and you laugh back, thinking about how devastated John would be if he found out what was going on. Despite your efforts, however, James always finds a way to get to you somehow, whether it be when John is going to the bathroom or when he asks you to help him set the table for dinner, he is always there, waiting, watching, setting up moments for him to sidle up to you and hook his arm around your waist for an affectionate squeeze that has your stomach lurching. 

It makes you sick that this is happening while you pretend it isn't, and being around John makes you feel like the biggest piece of shit on Earth. You're going against him and behind his back, fucking his dad while he's oblivious and _trusting_ of you. Stay classy, Dave Strider. 

You're sitting in John's living-room with Karkat and Roxy playing some video games Roxy hauled over. She laughs and rolls back when she kills your character for the third time in a row and John sits beside her, cheering her on. 

"Some fuckin' friend you are," you accuse jokingly, elbowing John. "Cheering for the enemy, I see how it is." 

"Oh come on," John says, rolling his eyes. "It's not my fault you suck!" 

Karkat, from his spot on the floor, mashes the buttons on his controller and throws it on the ground when Roxy kills him, too. "That's it, I'm not playing next round. I might just get an aneurysm if Roxy kills me one more damn time." 

"You're both babies." 

"Thanks John." 

Roxy smiles and cracks her knuckles as the end of the match is announced. Unsurprisingly, she wipes the floor with you both; Karkat tosses his controller to John with a grumble and Roxy queues up another match. "Aw, you sourpusses, c'mon, maybe you'll beat me one day. That's gotta count for something, right? Keep at it and you'll eventually succeed?" 

"Pfff, as if." 

A few minutes after the match is started, the doorbell rings and John mashes his fingers harder against the buttons and groans. "Karkat, could you get that? I think the mail's here." 

Karkat nods and leaves to go grab it while the rest of you play (does it count as playing if Roxy is literally demolishing you? It's less playing and more walk-get shot by Roxy-walk-get shot by Roxy.) and by the time he comes walking back to your group, he has his eyebrows knitted together as he bites his lip. "Hey John?" He receives a grunt in response, signalling him to go on. "Is uh, is your dad's name James?" 

John doesn't even bother looking up from the screen, transfixed. "Yeah why?" You feel a cold sensation slip into your stomach as you remember the conversation you had with him at the party, the one you haven't brought up with each other since it happened. _"Who's James?" Oh, no one. Just someone Cronus reminded me of."_ How fucking careless could you get? 

"Just curious," Karkat says, tossing the mail onto the coffee table. He sits back down, and you pretend to be focused on the game in an effort to ignore the stare he's giving you. 

He doesn't say anything to you, thankfully, and the hours pass relatively anxiety-free. When James comes home, however, Roxy leaves and Karkat gets ready to go too, and you fear for a second that you're going to be stuck driving back with Him again. You swear for a moment that you hear rain and feel hands running over your body even though you're nowhere near anyone. But, like the saint he is, Karkat says he can drive you home, and goes to run and grab his phone from John's room. 

Suddenly, you find that you're alone in the hallway, and, in the midst of the sensation, you feel the very real, very _current_ tingle of James squeezing your ass behind you. You go rigid, but otherwise don't try to move away from him; he hums and steps back from you, saying nothing more than an "I'll see you Friday" before he's gone. You swallow nervously as he disappears into the Kitchen and thank the stars when Karkat comes pacing from the top of the staircase with his phone and car keys. 

"You ready to go?" He asks, and if he sees how flustered you are, he doesn't make note of it. Again, you're far too grateful for what he does for you, and nod. 

The drive to your apartment is silent, but from behind your shades, you stare at Karkat through the rear-view mirror; you can tell that he looks at you every so often, and the familiar guilt of being worried over creeps back up on you again. As soon as he pulls up in front of your building, you race out, offering him little more than a polite goodbye, and try to calm your breathing on the way up the stairs. Everything is-- Moving too fast, too much, too quickly. You end up having to sit on the stairs for ten minutes just so you can get a hold of yourself until you're able to scale more flights without feeling like you're about to die. 

Bro is home when you open the door, but he only bothers to grunt in your direction. However, as you're walking past him, he waves his can of soda in your direction and gruffly says, "Hey, kid. Where'd you get that money hangin' out of your pocket? You look like some sort of stripper, dude." 

You go still, and your hand reaches back to your pants pocket. When you look back down at your hands, you have a 20 dollar bill in them. Bro swipes it out of your hand before you can even process what's happening and, with his monolithic statue-stature, stands over you. You realize he had asked you a question too late and try to stutter out a reply. "I- I don't know? I found it." 

He waves it in front of your face and sneers. "So you were just planning on keeping it for yourself, huh? When you could see how much I was strugglin' to feed the both of us, you were planning on engorging yourself, you selfish prick?" You think about the kitchen, the emptiness of the cabinets, and Bro's stash of alcohol; he isn't even trying, you know he isn't. Feeling cheap and used, you don't bother to answer and trudge back to your room. The ghostly feeling of James' hands on your ass sends shivers skittering up your spine, and the money that was previously shoved in your pocket still feels like its there, burning a hole straight into your skin. 

It's a reminder, and you know all too well that at this point, you're not much more than a glorified whore to James. You're not to sure you see yourself as anything different anyway with the way _you've_ been acting. 

Disgusted and Anxious, you settle yourself in bed and don't bother to answer the message you see from Karkat on your screen, too ashamed of yourself. 

CG: IF YOU EVER NEED TO TALK TO ANYONE, I'M HERE. JUST PUTTING THAT OUT THERE.

\--- 

On Friday, you can't bring yourself to go to school. Nightmares are becoming more common for you, more plaguing, and you spent all night clawing at your stomach, so you feel like you deserve a good few hours to yourself before you have to go to him again and repeat the cycle. Bro isn't home to care, so you curl up on the futon with unfocused eyes and watch Blue's Clues until your head feels fuzzy and the room spins. You succumb to sleep easily enough soon after, and although nightmares await you, you can't find it within yourself to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls tell me what you think, or dont if you dont want to.  
> see you next time for more suffering !


	9. My Hobbies Include: Repressing My Sexuality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, long time no see. but ill always update this fic, its just been veryyyyy busy for me lately. and the ap exams are coming up so crosses my fingers thinkin abt my nonexistent updating schedule 
> 
> but enjoy! beginning is a bit graphic though, just a warning.

You wake up with a jolt as a loud banging sound catches your attention. For a moment, you swear that it's bro, so you flip off the couch and hope he doesn't smack you around for sitting on his futon. That shit won't fly, not with Rose on your ass. You writhe around with your heart in your throat and search for Bro with flitting eyes, seeing but not comprehending. The banging sound starts again and, oh, it's the door.

You have half a mind to just not answer it, too anxious to even breathe like a normal fucking person, but decide against it. Burning resignation floods your body; you have your own suspicions about who's at the door, and you know he won't want to be kept waiting.

Checking your phone, you swallow and realize that, yeah, you were stupid enough to sleep through all of school AND well past five p.m.

Which was when you were supposed to meet James. Good job, jackass.

You stand on shaky legs and make your way to the door- block it out block it out block it out. Despite the fact that you're trying your best to keep your cool- it's just sex it's just sex it's just sex- your teeth just won't stop _chattering_ , your hands won't stop _shaking_ , even when you have your hand around the doorknob separating you from James. 

Another knock compels you to open the door suddenly, before you wuss out, and you're face-to-face with him before you know it; he looks behind you, seemingly checking for Bro, and he seems satisfied with what he sees because his hand clamps around your wrist and he drags you closer to him for a quick, rough kiss. When you part, you look away from his face; it hurts to look at him and his deeply creased grin. It reminds you of how stupid you were to ever think you were more than a toy to break in James' eyes. This must've been his plan all along, to trap you under his thumb. You have never experienced genuine kindness from him, it's all been a ploy in order to get into your pants.

James' voice is low and dangerous when he speaks. "You think you can skip out whenever you feel like it?" You stay, shaking against his body, and don't answer. He jostles you only seconds later by the arm he's got a hold of and hisses under his breath, straight in your ear. "Well? Answer me."

"I don't," comes out of your lips in a rush, a wheeze from your throat. "I-"

James makes an annoyed sound from above you but you can't bring yourself to look at him, even as you shake in his hold. "Stop crying," he says, tone edging on angry. You didn't even know that you had been in the first place, but you try to quiet down, your dignity spent. You're suddenly aware of the cold tears running down your hot and embarrassed cheeks, and the realization makes you hiccup in shame.

When he leads you to his car, you go willingly, knowing that protesting will not work in your favor. James had hopped from threat to threat, from telling John about what you've let happen, to raping John instead of you, so quickly that you're sure he'd do all of the above if he was given a chance. Truly, there is no escape for you, there is no Out for you; you're designated to rot under him like bruised fruit, and even though thinking about it makes you physically ill, you think you might be coming to terms with it. 

On the drive, James passes his house and you give him a questioning look, anxiety beginning to edge its way into your chest again. Catching your look, he explains, "We're going somewhere special tonight." As if that would brighten up the experience any. But you _know_ that this is all because you fucked up. Whatever he has planned is a punishment; James' fingers tap along the steering wheel in a way that makes it blatantly obvious to you that he wants to hit you, and would, if his hands weren't occupied. 

He's also gotten more violent, you notice. Has subtlety slipped from telling you he loves you to threatening to hit you if you so much as misbehave. The transition was lost to you, you don't know how fast or slow it really happened, after all, it's only been a bit over a month, though you're not sure how much more of this you can take. You're doing this until you die, your mind supplies. He will never let you go, you're his you're his hishishis.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when the car comes to a stop in front of a run-down inn. James motions for you to get out and follows you to the front, his hand soft but firm against your lower back. If you didn't feel like a prostitute before, you sure as hell feel like one now, being led straight into a dirty motel like some sort of street walker; a part of you really hopes he doesn't decide to give you money again, you know that if he did, you'd have to accept it, and if you accepted it, you really would be deserving every single thing you recieved from James.

He gives you a shove when you don't move fast enough beside him, and your wobbly knees nearly give out underneath you. Subdued and helpless, you follow him the the front as he grabs the card for the room, you float behind him to the bathroom, to the bed; a ghost. While he shoves you down (tenderly, tenderly, he kisses your neck and tells you that you're beautiful, but he'll turn violent soon enough, you know it) you find yourself thinking of Karkat, thinking about what he might do if he found out about this. 

You know that really, anybody could find out. It could be John or Roxy or Sollux or Tavros or Terezi or _anyone_ , but what really has you thinking is Karkat. Would he push you away, never speak to you again? Would he condemn you for going back, again and again, while pretending you didn't somehow want this? James makes a fist in your hair and tells you to keep moving, and for a moment, you question how you even got your mouth on James' dick without even noticing. 

Filthy. Filthy filthy filthy. In your mouth, in your throat, in your stomach, your soul, _you_ , contaminated. Karkat would never want to be your friend if he found out about this; neither would John. Everyone would hate you, everyone would LOATHE you. You moan sadly as it hits you, and James makes a content sound from above you, merely shifting inside like he's not even using your mouth, but your entire soul. The noises of distress you're making only egg him on, and he mutters dirty complements, dirty insults that you'll never be free of, until he pushes you all the way down by the back of your head and you---

\---

By the time you get home, you've steeled yourself as much as humanly possible. At least this time, James didn't use anything BUT your mouth.

The apartment is cold, and Bro isn't home. Or hasn't been for a while, at least. You crack open your laptop once you're in bed and check pesterchum. As soon as you log on, a notification pings, and a window opens for a brand new memo. 

TA: ii2 thii2 workiing?  
TT: Yes, it appears so.  
GG: yep :D!  
TG: loud and clear cappt'n ;')  
EB: yeah. oh, and hey roxy!  
TG: hey john !  
TA: dave ii can 2ee you onliine. get your a22 iin the chat  
GC: D4V3! G3T YOUR PR3TTY 4SS 1N H3R3  
TG: yo guys chill i know im pretty great but bring it down a notch  
TG: or maybe several notches, jeez  
EB: /rolls eyes  
TT: Indeed. /Rolls eyes.  
GG: rolls eyes too!!*  
GC: OHHH! 4R3 W3 ROL3PL4Y1NG NOW? >:)  
TA: no TZ  
TG: okay anyway  
TG: any reason for this chat ? or is this just the communal jackass memo  
TA: well iif KK would ju2t get on we could explaiin  
TA: we're waiitiing on hiim.  
CG: I'M HERE. DON'T GET YOUR UNDERWEAR IN A TWIST, SOLLUX.  
TA: *pantiie2  
CG: UGH, WHATEVER.  
TG: yeah whats happening  
TG: because as much as i enjoy kicking the shit with you guys like some rad game of hacky-sacks  
TG: id rather be sleeping  
EB: dave, it's like 8 p.m.!  
TG: so?? im a tender maiden john i need my hours  
TA: ok sleepiing beauty. to cut to the cha2e, ii got us all tiicket2 for the faiir tomorrow  
TT: How kind of you, Sollux.  
TA: ii know ii know, ii'm a viirtuou2 2oul, you're welcome.  
GG: :OOO sol that was so sweet of you!! are you sure you dont want us to pay you back ? :(  
TA: no, iit'2 all good. altruii2m ii2 practiically my miiddle name  
GC: N1C3 TH4NKS SOLLUX!  
CG: DID IT EVEN OCCUR TO YOU THAT I MIGHT BE BUSY TOMORROW? YKNOW, DOING HOMEWORK OR SOMETHING?  
TA: pffffff  
CG: OK. FINE, I HAVE NOTHING TO DO TOMORROW.  
TG: ill b ther !!!  
EB: same. my dad's driving me nuts, i need to get out of the house

You feel your stomach clench and anger burn at your cheeks. JOHN, feel sick of his dad? Yeah, at least he isn't being fucked by him. At least he isn't---

TG: really  
EB: ughh dude, he keeps smothering me. you're lucky you don't live with him, it would drive you NUTS.  
TG: mm  
TT: Are you going, Dave?  
TG: i guess  
TG: got nothin better to do

As much as you wish you could just stay at home tomorrow and sulk (maybe even sit in the shower for a few hours), you know your friends are too suspicious of you right now as it is for you to skip out on this. 

GC: WH3R3S T4V BY TH3 W4Y >:/  
TA: he'2 2tayiing the weekend at hiis grandma'2 hou2e, can't come  
TG: aw bummr!  
CG: WHAT TIME IS IT.  
TA: noon. at the parkiing lot  
CG: ALRIGHT. DAVE, DO YOU NEED A RIDE?

You consider, for a moment, saying no. Your pride insists that you turn it down, feeling a bit pathetic for needing Karkat's help all the time. His charity. But your fingers ghost along the keys without your permission, and you confirm that yes, you would like a ride. 

TT: See you all tomorrow. Night.  
GG: night !! and dave make sure to get your hours  
GG: SOMEONE needs to be the flawless princess of our group after all :)  
TG: haha  
TG: sure thing jade  
TG: night

You close your laptop before everyone else signs off and shove it away from you, a small sigh escaping your lips. You want to feel excited that you're hanging out with your friends tomorrow, but you're just feeling nervous and full of dread over it. Dread over not being able to hide what's happening, dread over not being good enough for your friends, dread over not being able to act normal enough. You set an alarm for ten a.m. and worm under the covers, hoping you'll wake up in time to get ready before Karkat comes.

\---

In the end, it's your own screaming that wakes you up, and not your alarm. You thrash, feeling a sensation that you think is there but you know, rationally, isn't. You're pathetic and sad, you think, as you calm down your own yelling and palm the sweaty hair out of your eyes. Not even seconds after you quiet down, you hear Bro's fist slamming into the wall between you, and the sound itself makes all of the noise rush out of you and disappear like it's hiding. "Shut the fuck up, s'me of us are trying to get some rest."

Your eyes flit to the clock and you notice that it's only 8 a.m. so you decide it's better to just stay awake at this point. Biting down on your anxiety, you pick at the skin on your arm and try to steady your breaths, even though you still feel nauseous and afraid, residual sensations from the nightmare you just woke up from still tingling up and down your body.

You realize that you're chattering, though you're anything but cold. In the end, you ride out the sensations and wait for Karkat, ignoring the edge in your chest and the fuzziness of your mind. If you weren't so weak you could deal with this shit, if you had gotten better like Bro always wanted you to, this would have never have happened.

In all honesty, it feels like only a blink later until you're climbing into Karkat's car and plugging the aux cord into your phone. Some shitty indie song you like starts to play, and Karkat comments on your "abhorrent taste in music", but the smile on his lips conveys to you that he's at least amused, and you can't help but smile back and call him an asshole in response.

The ride itself is short, but it feels like forever 'till you reach the fairgrounds. Maybe because you've been too busy staring at Karkat like a creep and thinking about how nice he looks when he smiles-- Wait. Fuck that. He's your friend. 

You blink a few times and worry your lip between your teeth. Another shitty song comes on shuffle, and Karkat is too concentrated on his driving to watch you, thank god, because you honestly feel so embarrassed. Why're you thinking about Karkat like that? Sure, you know you're not straight, at least to some degree and shame towards the fact. James is proof enough of that, but you know for certain that you are NOT supposed to be crushing on your friend. especially when you're too dirty to ever be in a relationship anyway.

Plus, you don't even want to think about what Bro would do to you if he found out that-- haha, nope. Not going down that train of thought.

Yeah. Fuck that. Keeping it strictly platonic from this point on. Got it.

At the parking lot, you meet up with the #Crew and exchange a few pleasantries before Sollux hands out the tickets he got for you all. You can feel him looking at you especially hard when he gives you yours, and you feel the same sort of looks from everyone else. You feel like they're staring through you, looking at all of the filthy things you've done. It feels like what James has done to you is _visible_ like a film over your skin, and it makes you sick and self conscious.

You quickly force yourself to stop thinking about it and focus on trying to act normal. Rose gives your hand a squeeze before she takes her "plus one" (Kanaya, some girl she met recently, you guess) and fucks off to God knows where. You say hi to Jade, but she leaves with Roxy and John to the roller-coasters soon after, and Sollux is dragged by Terezi to the game booths.

Oh. Okay.

"I guess it's just us now?" Karkat says, looking up at you. "I mean, all those assholes just kind of paired up and left us."

"Yeah, I guess they did." You feel awkward for a second, not knowing what to say, but Karkat playfully rams into your shoulder and gives another timid, ~~beautiful~~ friendly smile.

"Whatever. We'll have fun on our own, _cool kid_." He snorts right after he says it, and you can't help but snort too, dropping it and following him into the fair. 

"Ha ha. At least I'm not the loser who kisses his poster of Will Smith when he get lonely."

Karkat rolls his eyes at you, but the smile doesn't fade from his face. "That was ONE time like five years ago, okay. I've grown as a person since then." You head deeper into the crowd, bodies pushed and mashed around you like sardines in a tin. The air smells nostalgic, kind of like summer: green, lively, even though it's only Autumn and everything is practically dead already. You follow Karkat around for a few hours, and he insists on buying you lunch at around one. You try to decline, really, but the smell of deep-fried whatever is too tempting, and for once, you don't feel like you're about to vomit at the prospect of food, so you accept.

He seems happy to see you eating, though you can't imagine why, it's not like you're starving, and you prattle on about mindless stuff while he drinks his soda. "--You don't understand, Karkat. It's not like I kill animals to get their bones, alright. I just find the occasional roadkill and bury it somewhere for a few months and come back and take the bones, you feel?"

"No, I don't "feel"," Karkat rolls his eyes again. "But whatever makes you happy I guess. I like hearing you talk about shit you're interested in."

You feel something go warm in you at the compliment (!?). "You do?" You're kind of annoyed that it comes out like a shocked question, but Karkat just nods. 

"Yeah. You're actually a really passionate, sincere person. And I don't think many people notice that about you, what with your many many layers of bullshit nonchalance."

"Hey it's not --"

"Dude, it's totally bullshit," Karkat says, waving his hand up in the air vaguely. "It just is. It's bullshit."

"Whatever, weirdo."

"Hey! I'm not the one who fucking-- Collects roadkill in my free time!"

You both laugh at that, and get up to toss your plates after you finish eating. You marvel at the fact that this has probably been the first real meal you've kept down in maybe a week. "Don't diss me just because you're jealous of my collection, K."

"Diss. Oh my God, you really just said that word didn't you." He pinches the bridge of his nose, but you can tell he's still amused by what he Jade likes to call your "antics".

You walk around and do mindless shit with him for a few more hours until you realize the sun is starting to set. You realize Bro will probably want you back if he's at the apartment. Probably. "Shit. I've gotta go home soon."

Karkat shrugs. "Me too. But you think we could do one more thing before we left? We haven't gone on the Ferris wheel yet." He looks shocked with what he said and steels his face, quickly amending what he said. "I mean. It's lame and all but I think it fits in with the theme of today, and considering the fact that everything _has_ been pretty cliché here, I just thought maybe it'd fill up your 'irony' quota for the day and-" 

You find it kind of cute that he's trying to act like he doesn't care if you ride it or not with him. Even though he acts like an asshole, you can tell he's pretty much like how he described you. He's passionate. Sincere. How can you say no to that face? You can't, that's the answer.

You cut off his desperate rambling. "No prob, it'll be cool. I can take some pics of the sunset from the top, too."

On your way over to the ride, you run into Rose and Kanaya. They greet you happily, maybe even suspiciously eagerly. When Karkat tells them where you're going, they share a wicked, evil, _conniving_ glance. What the fuck. Your stomach twists because you feel like they just hinted that you. And Karkat. And they thought. No. 

Karkat doesn't seem to notice, simply keeps walking, so you try to breathe away the anxiety as best you can.

He pays for the ride, even though you insist on pitching in, and you clamber into the pastel yellow cart and wait for it to start moving. You tell yourself that you are most definitely NOT staring at Karkat's face too much, even though you feel like you're making a map in your brain or something dumb like that. His freckles, his dark skin, his accent, his _everything_ the warm yellow light of the sunset makes him glow, and you feel pasty in comparison, your usually okay skin dry and fading. Before your thoughts get too gay, you realize Karkat's talking to you.

"Hey. I know next to nothing about you."

The statement stuns you a bit, because he's never really this forward (well, he is. Just not THIS forward) and your shrug stiffly, wondering what he really means by it or if it has any double meanings. "You know plenty, what're you even talking about, you loser."

Again, the eye roll. "Yeah. I know what your favorite colors are and why you hate George Clooney, but I don't really _know_ you. And I want to get to know you. So let's talk."

You stare at him for another few seconds before shrugging a bit, trying to act like your anxiety isn't eating you alive and shooting straight through the proverbial roof. You're so so afraid that he's going to ask something you don't want to talk about. "Uh. Sure, I guess. Is this going to be like 20 Questions or something? If so, what's your bra size?"

"Dave, seriously?"

"What, I can't be curious?"

The wind blows through your little car and makes Karkat shiver. "Ugh no, you can't be, you dick. Ask something else."

"Fine. You religious?" You take out your phone, snapping a few pics of the sun as you speak. Man, you can practically smell the food from up here. It's a nice distraction, and if numbs your emotions a bit, if anything.

"No." Karkat says. "Not really. I'm an atheist. You?"

"Not religious either. I'm agnostic though. Figure if a giant hand appears in the sky one day, I'll become religious or something. Feel it as I go and shit. Your turn."

Karkat looks past you and at the setting sun. He licks his lips and hesitates before opening his mouth, but hesitates again and shuts it. He looks to be in 'should I or should I not' limbo, and your gut clenches at the prospect of a possibly probing questions. Thankfully, Karkat keeps it light. "What do you want to do after high school?"

"Man. I dunno. Maybe I'll be a paleontologist? Or maybe I'll just go to some fancy liberal arts college and circle-jerk it with the hipsters. How about you?"

Karkat blushes a bit and wrings his hands. "I don't know either. I think I might... Do screenwriting? Or at least focus on writing. It's kind of stupid but-"

"Dude, that's like. The least stupid thing I've heard, shut up. You have any siblings?"

The wind blows again, making Karkat shudder, but he nods. "Yeah. He's in college though, moved out as soon as he could and fucked right off to Europe. He didn't really want to stick around our dad--" he cuts himself off, seeming embarrassed, if not anxious, talking about his dad. Yeah, you get that. You pretend not to notice him trail off for his dignity's sake, and he eventually continues. "Yeah. Anyway, Kankri's a dick and I'm glad he's gone. End of story. How about you?"

You shrug. "I have my Bro. He's practically all the family I have, but he's chill, so it's cool." 

"Oh, you've mentioned him before," Karkat says. For some reason, the tone of his voice makes you start to fidget nervously, so you wring your hands together like he was doing earlier and hope that he doesn't comment. "Well, I'm glad you have some family left. Anyway. Um, questions, questions." He hesitates again and picks at the cuticles on his hand. "Sexuality?"

Dread runs through your chest, and you're appalled by how desperate you sound to make it true when you blurt out: "I'm straight." As an afterthought, you ask him about himself, and a look strikes across his face that seems almost upset (?). But fuck. If you weren't freaking out so bad, you'd care less. Yeah, telling yourself that you're not gay, really makes it true, doesn't it? Are you forgetting about all of the times you've let James use you? How many times you've gotten off from his abuse? Yeah, straight your ass. It's almost like you've learned _nothing_ from what Bro has been trying to beat into your head all these years.

You're going fuzzy again, and you think Karkat can tell, which makes it all the more humiliating. "Dave. Are you okay?"

"I'm--"

"Hey, it's alright. I'm sorry for asking, you're okay, dude." He gives you his signature 'worried Karkat' look, and your stomach flips a few good times before you're back to feeling pathetic. You're making him worry about you. When it's all. Your. Fault. Fuck, you have to have a victim complex or something.

You bite your lip and discretely claw at your arm in order to ground yourself as images flash in front of you, images of things you'd never want anyone else to see you doing. Your vision starts to blacken at the edges, darken and twist and distort itself. You swear you can hear, smell, _taste_ \--

"When I was a kid, I really liked the Care Bears." Karkat says suddenly, breaking through your stream of self hatred. You gulp down a big breath as he goes on. Hands on your neck, hands on your neck. James always apologizes after, but he's never sorry. He's rough and it _hurts_. "My favorite was Grumpy Bear, though that's honestly what everyone expects from me anyway. When I was five, my Dad got me a Grumpy Bear stuffed animal, and I honestly still sleep with it sometimes. And hey, don't look at me like that, I'm opening my heart and soul up over here, you douche." 

You breathe a bit easier and close your eyes behind your shades for a few seconds even though you know he can't tell. "You're a fucking nerd," you wheeze out, still kind of sounding like you're dying. As an afterthought, you speak again. "Sorry." But you don't know who you're really apologizing to anymore. Bro, for not meeting his expectations. Karkat, for depending on him so much. James, for crying. John, for betraying him--

"It's okay." Karkat says. He stays silent for another moment, wondering if he should go on or not, and ploughs ahead when you don't say anything. "That stuffed animal has seen hell, I'm sure. It's missing an eye and I've had to stitch it back together a few times, but it's mine, so... Oh, we're at the top."

You look up from the hazey blur of your flashbacks and see the world sprawled out beneath you. In reds and oranges and yellows, the sky bleeds on your city and paints it. Your chest begins to feel lighter, and you clench your fists just to make sure that you're really here seeing this. With Karkat. Who talks about mindless things to distract you from your thoughts, who avoids talking about his dad as much as he can, who sounds just as alone as you feel, who is honestly amazing in every sense of the word.

But nagging doubt tempts you. Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out something you've been wondering since you met him. "Why'd you even talk to me that day at the park?"

Karkat shrugs like he doesn't know what he's about to say, but it comes out easily, like he's practiced saying this before, like he's been ready to tell you this for weeks. "Everyone deserves to have somebody who cares about them."

And when it comes from his mouth, you honestly believe it.

\---

You're nearing the bottom of the Ferris wheel and neither of you have said much since you got to the top. Karkat gives another shiver, and you take off your hoodie (big deal, you have a longsleeve under it anyway) and shove it to his chest. When he looks at you funny, you roll your eyes. "Just put it on. Who else will I bother at two a.m. for sick memes if you get hypothermia and die?"

"Good point," he says, slipping it on, and if you dare to say it, you think his entire body relaxes soon after. "Thanks."

"No problem."

The ride comes to a soft halt and you nudge through the crowd to get back to the parking lot. You still feel like an idiot for freaking out in front of Karkat, but he hasn't judged you yet, so you _guess_ it's fine. For now.

Everyone else is out by the cars and talking among themselves. Rose raises her eyebrows at you and looks at Karkat. Namely, the sweater he's sporting. You shrug a bit and say goodbye to everyone before you get into Karkat's car with him. He puts on his own jazzy music on the way back, complaining that he probably got an infectious "douche-disease" from listening to your hipno-hipster bullshit earlier. You laugh and mock the jazz from the passenger's seat, even though you like it too, and laugh even more when he says that you're distracting his driving.

You get home far too soon, and it's only when you're back in your apartment that you realize Karkat still has your sweater.

Bro's home, but he doesn't really look at you directly, only offering you a curt nod. You nod back, and right before you make it into your room, he calls for you. A balloon inflates in your chest, but you do as your told (you always do what you're told, you always do it, you're too scared not to) and face him.

Bro's drunk of course, when isn't he, and he gestures towards you with the hand he's holding his beer with. "Well, don't you look like a fresh daisy. What's got you so happy?"

You stay silent, not knowing if he actually wants you to answer or just wants to verbally harass you until he passes out. But he cocks an eyebrow, a look that has your skin crawling, and the words are out of your mouth before you even think to say them. Because with him, your instincts get the better of you. And right now, your instincts are telling you to listen before you get the shit beaten out of you. Again. "I just had a good day with my friends."

"Your _friends_ you say." Bro scoffs a little. "Yeah. Alright. So your _friends_ are the ones givin' you twenties."

You freeze for a second until it clicks in your brain. He's talking about the money James gave you. Does he--

Does he really think you're going out all the time to sell yourself?

Bro shakes his head. "Y'know, if you're whoring yourself out, aim for at least a fifty next time."

He stops looking at you, which means you can leave, and you hightail it to your room as fast as possible. Next time. Next time. Always a next time. Always 'Dave, be good' or 'Dave, open your mouth' or 'Dave listen' or 'Dave, stop crying'. Is that really how you come off as? Like some sort of cheap prostitute?

You think back on yesterday, to the feeling of being held down by the back of your neck. The smell of sex in that old motel off the side of the freeway. Yeah, you think. You really are one, aren't you? But you're worse, because you're not even getting any money out of it. You're just being a slut because you're being told to be one and that's disgusting. You're disgusting.

With a new aching pain growing inside of you and the happiness from today draining straight out of your body, you get in the shower and scrub at your skin until it's raw once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading :^)


	11. sorry

basically im sorry

ive been unmotivated and depressed these past few months and nothing has been even remotely influencing me to continue this. i feel somewhat ashamed looking at it because im obsessed with what i see as the errors of my writing, and since this fic is so raw and personal for me, i become uncomfortable thinking about it being connected to my account sometimes

so im tentatively ophaning this work.  
for anyone who wants to know how i planned on ending it, or wants to know anything else about it, feel free to send an ask off anon to my tumblr: textsize

thanks for all of your support, and i hope to continue writing more on my account that i will finish and not despise in the process 

i thought it was more fair to confirm and make it known that this will be discontinued   
thanks

 

\- ultimatum

**Author's Note:**

> thnkxs for reading  
> tell me what you think!


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